Where Light Can Be
by Decadebaby
Summary: The State Department struggles to save two girls, a continent away.
1. Chapter 1

_State Department Tuesday 3:17 p.m._

Daisy laughed out loud and Blake shifted his weight onto his left foot. He kept his face blank, but internally, he was desperate to collapse into bed - actually he was tired enough to sleep on the floor.

"I am fighting a strong desire to turn today's polling numbers into a poster." Daisy said. She stood beside Elizabeth McCord's desk, where her boss sat, no doubt equally exhausted and yet, looking improbably beautiful.

"Ah, but we don't care about polls." Elizabeth McCord said with a grin.

"But we are thrilled that the Congressman had to turn tail and run." Daisy said laughing again.

"No." Elizabeth disagreed. "That would be small minded of us and petty." She paused. "We are above such things."

"Yes, ma'am." Daisy nodded her head, turning to leave.

"However," Secretary McCord continued with a wry grin. "We are filled with a general sense of joy because it is Tuesday, and we've always liked Tuesdays."

"Yes, Madam Secretary." Daisy said as she turned and passing Blake stepped out of the office.

"Blake, you appear to be asleep on your feet." Secretary McCord said sitting back in her chair and looking up at him.

"Me?" He rested a hand against his chest. "I'm filled with unspeakable energy and joy in preparation to celebrate the goodness of Tuesday."

This brought an actual laugh from his boss, which pleased him to no end. "Ma'am, shall I send for your car?"

"It's a bit early for that." She sighed.

"You worked through the night."

"I'm fine. Thank you, Blake, but let's make sure I am out those doors at five - not a second later."

"Yes, ma'am." He turned to leave and looked up to see both Jay and Nadine headed to her office, their faces grim. His heart sank, and he turned back and said, "Ma'am, Nadine and Jay would like to speak with you."

"I can squeeze them in." She said, laughing lightly but stopped immediately seeing Blake's expression. She rose from behind her desk and stood beside him. Seeing their faces, she understood immediately they weren't here to gloat over recent successes.

Blake glanced at her, amazed at her stamina. She gave no indication of frustration or disappointment that it appeared another problem was rolling their way. She met his gaze and he dipped his head, embarrassed that she had caught him looking at her with compassion.

"Coffee?" He asked.

"Yes, please." She said moving to meet Jay and Nadine in her outer office.

"Madam Secretary," Nadine greeted her. "If you have a minute for us, something has come up."

***MS***

"Listen kid," Henry McCord told his youngest. "Tell him he's got to make up his mind. We already got the tickets. Is he in or out?"

He stood leaning in the doorway of Jason bedroom. Jason sat at the end of his bed, a phone in his hand.

"He's gotta talk to Anna." Jason said.

Henry shook his head at his son. "See," he pointed a long finger at Jason. "What did I tell ya? Girls complicate everything! There's no rush to have a girlfriend. Wait a few years."

"Dad." Jason groaned. "Bender has always been dumb. Him having a girlfriend doesn't change anything."

"That doesn't make what I said less right." He held out his hand. "Come on, it's after nine. Hand over the phone."

Jason handed his phone to his father. "You know, none of my friends have to turn in their phones at night."

His father said nothing in response but glancing behind him called, "Noodle, phone!" Over his shoulder.

"Mom's not home?" Alison asked. She handed her father her phone.

"No." He sighed. "I guess something else came up. She'll call or walk in the door, eventually." He turned back to Jason. "Hey, if Bender cancels, you can bring Alison."

"No way!" Jason groaned.

"Where?" Ali asked leaning against her father.

"The basketball game." Jason answered. "My birthday present and, absolutely not."

"Like I want to spend a night sitting with your smelly friends!" She shook her head at her brother. "Dad, can we make popcorn?"

"Its nine." He told her.

"So, it's not that late. We could watch something." She pleaded, pulling on his arm.

"Alright." He nodded. "C'mon, Jas." Jason rose and followed his sister down the back steps to the kitchen. Henry glanced at the phones in his hand and said, "Be right there." He stepped into the bedroom and put the phones on the charging station on the desk. Elizabeth's robe lay draped over the back of the chair where she'd abandoned it two, no three days ago. He sighed deeply, fighting the urge to lift the robe to his face and breath in the familiar sweetness of her perfume.

"Da-ad!" Came Jason's voice from below. "Tell Alison we are NOT watching Project Runway!"

He closed the door behind him, taking the stairs two at a time. "C'mon, Jason," He told his son stepping into the kitchen. "It's not a bad show. We can 'make it work'." His smile was huge as Alison exploded with laughter at his Tim Gunn impersonation, and for the briefest of seconds he forgot about the aching longing in his heart.

***MS***

"Where are they now?" Elizabeth asked, looking up into Jay's face which was grey with concern.

"A local prison."

"Seriously?" She shook her head. "And the response has been?"

"Nothing so far. There have been small local grumblings - nothing big enough to be labeled as protest. The international community has just gotten wind of it. One of the sisters," He glanced at the paper in his hand, "Anoosh, had a fairly active online presence. She made friends with a girl in France, Lara Tennier, who is organizing a protest at her high school."

"She wrote the letter to us?" Elizabeth asked.

"Letters." Nadine nodded her head. "Yes, ma'am."

They studied her thoughtfully as she remained silent. After a long minute, she leaned back in her chair, "Alright, let's get into it, but be discrete. Pakistan isn't going to cooperate just because we want them to. We've got to find a way into this."

"Ma'am? Do you really think we should get involved?" Jay asked and both Nadine and Elizabeth glared at him. "No, I get it." He said trying to explain his hesitation. "It's wrong, but wrong things happen all over the world. They aren't American."

"No, but it can't hurt to at least ask the government to intervene on their behalf. Majara is thirteen, Jay and Anoosh is barely fifteen. They are children! Besides, Lara asked us to speak out on behalf of freedom. We can't ignore that. You want to let down the four hundred teenage girls who signed her letter?" Elizabeth held up the letter, the bright, bubbly signatures a contrast to the seriousness of the request.

"It's going to break over here soon." Nadine added. "There's an entire thread devoted to the sisters on tumblr. Pretty soon we are going to see letters from American teenage girls."

"It's already starting," Blake interrupted. "#freethesisters." He held his phone up. "#wifeordeath."

"Get into it, now." Elizabeth's voice was stern.

***MS***

"You sound so tired, Babe." Henry lay back against the pillows of their bed, a phone to his ear.

"I am." She exhaled slowly. "I'm just waiting on a call. Should come in any minute now. I'll be home tonight."

"Well, it's already 10:30." He said. You left Monday morning, and I'll bet you won't make it through that door before Wednesday."

"How are the kids?" She diverted.

"Fine. Jason is excited about the game next week. Although, your favorite kid, Bender, might not make it."

"Why not? We got those tickets weeks ago!"

"Yeah, but that was before Niki."

"Who is Niki?"

Henry laughed. "Bender got himself a girlfriend, and now his time is not his own.

"Oh, good God!" She laughed. "Seriously? He's younger than Jason!"

"He's in over his head, too." Henry told her. "He can't seem to manage a decision without her."

"Niki?" She asked. "That sounds like a stripper's name."

"Elizabeth! She's fourteen and I'm sure she's a perfectly nice girl."

"I don't like it." She huffed.

"Neither does Jason." He glanced at the clock. "You can't come home now, Babe?"

"No. We are waiting on a call but after that."

"Sweetheart, you sound so worn out."

"Thank you."

"Hey, you know what I mean. I'm trying to be thoughtful."

"You are thoughtful." She sighed. "But I better go. I'll probably be pretty late. Don't wait up, Henry."

"I'll be waiting, Babe." His voice was gentle. "It doesn't matter how late. Anything you can talk about?"

"Not now. Not on the phone." She told him. "I better go. I'm sorry about not coming home and . . ."

"Hey," He cut her off. "Not your fault, Babe. I love you and I'll see you in a few hours."

"Just a few hours." She repeated. "That's not so bad. Thanks, Henry."

She hung up the phone. She always, always felt better if she could at least talk to Henry. It wasn't that she couldn't manage life herself; she was a confident, strong and independent woman. And she relied on Henry - had been for over two decades. He was good at reminding her of the things that really mattered, and of who she truly was - he was her clearest mirror. She turned back to the papers on her desk, trying to ignore the picture that Jay had found. She set it aside, and turned to the files in front of her, deciding to focus on problems she could actually solve. She shuffled through the stack of paperwork, recognizing that it was a sad attempt to distract herself from the bright smiles of two teenage girls sentenced to death for simply choosing to defy tradition.


	2. Chapter 2

_State Department Thursday 11:24 a.m._

"I'm only asking you to consider speaking to the ambassador." Elizabeth McCord kept her tone even and her body posture relaxed.

"Or?" Ambassador Xiang asked with raised eyebrow. He sat across from her his features flat, giving no indication of any emotion at all.

 _A carefully controlled response to my every attempt at persuasiveness._ Elizabeth considered thoughtfully. _Not even the imprisonment of two young girls has cracked his facade._

"No, we aren't threatening anything. I'm simply asking you to consider intervening."

"If these girls are so important to the United States, why don't you step in and intervene?"

"You know, better than anyone, that our relationship with Pakistan is strained at best. You are in a unique position. Pakistan desires to maintain a solid relationship with you. This could be a way for you to communicate your support of women's right to the international community." She offered.

"Yes," He responded wryly. "It is our best interests that is deep in your heart."

"No." She sighed. "I'm thinking of two little girls who will be dead by the end of the week unless someone persuades Pakistan otherwise. You are in a unique position to do that."

"Pakistan does not appreciate the judgment of the western world. They are unlikely to base any decisions on what will please the United States."

"That is why I can't ask." She pointed out. "But you can."

He considered her thoughtfully for a moment before responding. "I will take this request to my government, Madam Secretary, but to be honest, we have more pressing matters than two children who've defied parental authority."

"Thank you." She said rising to shake his hand and fighting every urge to angrily clutch him around his neck. He left and Blake stepped into the office just as she returned to her desk.

"Ma'am you have just enough time for lunch before your budget meeting."

"Yes, thank you, Blake. Would you get Ambassador Kalb on the phone. Has Jay made any headway with Turkey?"

"He's still in a meeting." Blake hesitated. "Shall I get you something from the mess?"

"Hmm. Still meeting. That's a good sign, I guess."

"Perhaps a salad?" Blake continued.

"Later. See if you can get Ambassador Kalb, please."

"Yes, Madam Secretary." Blake ducked his head and turned to go, his shoulders slumped in resignation that he had not persuaded her to eat.

Sighing, she decided to throw him a bone. "Maybe you could find me a yogurt?" She called after him. "But not peach."

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled brightly. "Definitely not peach!"

***MS***

 _Georgetown, McCord Residence, 7:23 p.m._

"Have you seen this?" Alison McCord stood in the doorway of the family room where her mother lay stretched out on the couch reading a magazine, her head resting against her husband's chest. Henry McCord glanced up from the book in his hand.

"Have I seen what?" He asked.

"Not you. Mom." She turned to her mother. "Tell me you've seen this and are doing something about. Tell me that's why you've worked late."

"Alison, maybe you could slow down and explain what you are talking about." Henry responded as Elizabeth set aside her magazine and sat up.

"She knows what I mean, don't you?" Alison said.

"I can't talk about work, Ali." Elizabeth's voice was quiet and tense. "You know that."

"Noodle, stop it." Henry's tone was stern; protective.

"I'm not allowed to express my opinion?" Alison asked. "Anoosh is younger than I am, and she's in prison for refusing to marry a forty-six year old man! They threw her in prison because she wants to go to high school!"

"Hey!" Stevie stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"Hey, honey." Elizabeth smile at her oldest. "There's pasta in the fridge. Dad made it, not me, so it's safe."

"Thanks but I already ate."

"So that's it?" Alison continued. "You won't talk about it?"

"Can't." Henry clarified.

"Uh, oh." Stevie glanced at her sister. "I walk in during a fight?"

"Discussion." Her mother corrected. She pushed herself up from the couch and went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.

"It's not a discussion." Alison said bitterly. "That would require actual conversation."

"That's enough!" Henry said angrily.

"Henry, don't . . ."

"No. She can't just . . ." He sighed and rising crossed to where Alison stood. "Noodle, you can't just storm into the room and launch into her like that. Think. Think really carefully. What kind of a person is she? Would she stand idly by as a horrible injustice is committed?"

"They are going to be executed!" Alison said.

"Those girls in Pakistan! Everyone is talking about it! They are organizing a march on campus. We should go Ali!" Stevie said excitedly. She turned to her parents. "Or maybe we shouldn't. The press would probably show up. Could we?"

"No!" Alison said in frustration. "Mom won't let us! She won't talk about it!"

"I said that's enough. Alison go to your room. We will talk later." He pointed to the stairs as she opened her mouth in protest. "Now."

She at least had the good sense to leave silently. Elizabeth stood leaning against the counter a glass of water still in her hand. But she didn't watch Alison leave the room, she stared absently into the darkness beyond their window.

"I'm sorry," Stevie began. "I didn't think . . ."

"It's fine." Her mother said. "I'm the one who is sorry. You've every right to attend that march. I wish you could. But honey, the press has been on you lately and. . ."

"You don't have to explain it." Stevie said. "I get it. I'm sure you are doing everything you can."

"You sure you aren't hungry?" Her mother asked.

"No." Stevie studied her mother thoughtfully, and then turned to her father. "Let me talk to Ali. She's just . . . she feels things pretty strongly, that's all. She didn't mean to be disrespectful."

She turned and kissing her mother's cheek, went upstairs.

***MS***

"So you are taking her side." Ali said glaring at her older sister. She sat on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest.

"Right." Stevie said sarcastically, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "I"m defending child-marriages and so is Mom."

"Stevie . . ."

"Mom's job is complicated, Alison. Where do you think she's been? What time did she come home tonight? Come on. Think it through. Did you even see her yesterday?"

"What's the point of having a job like hers, if stupid crap like this can still happen?" Alison asked. "They are going to kill those girls next week!"

"Unless, something happens between now and then." Stevie pointed out. "And you think Mom isn't doing everything she can to change that?"

"I don't understand. How could this even happen? I didn't think this happened anymore!"

"It doesn't. At least not usually in Pakistan and not in the metropolitan areas. But it happened in a small remote village. The entire area is very traditional. That's a good thing, too. Hopefully, with enough international pressure, it will cause Pakistan enough embarrassment that they won't allow the sentence to be carried out." She leaned forward toward her younger sister. "We don't know anything really, except, we know Mom. Ali, you can't get so caught up in everything you forget who she is."

"Yeah," Ali admitted. "Yeah, I guess so. I was kind of a jerk. It's not like I think Mom is . . ." She sighed heavily. "She finally comes home and is trying to relax and I blow up at her. God! I'm a complete idiot, Stevie!"

"Wow, I can't even express how much I want to run with that." Stevie said with a laugh. "But come on, kid. It is easy to get swept up in the whole thing. Those girls seem so ordinary. Have you read Anoosh's blog? She could be any one of our friends!"

"You see the picture of the two of them? I mean Majara is just sticking up for her sister!"

"They said that Majara hid Anoosh for three days, snuck food and water to her - even when her father beat her." Stevie shook her head. "It's hard to believe that we are alive at the same time. It sounds like something from a hundred years ago."

"I know. I'm worried about not having a new pair of boots, and their own father is beating them because they don't want to marry some creepy old guy!"

"I would go to prison for you, Ali." Stevie said suddenly serious. "I mean it."

"Me, too." Ali agreed.

"So would Mom. She would never, ever let that happen to us." Stevie added softly.

"Yeah." Ali agreed.

***MS***

Elizabeth stepped out of the bathroom, clicking off the light. It was just after ten and although, she was completely exhausted from a long and stressful series of days, she was fairly certain she would never get to sleep.

She could feel Henry's eyes on her as she crossed their bedroom and went to her small make-up table. She said nothing to him, but sat down reaching for her lotion. She rubbed the lotion into her fingers, and glanced over at him.

"Go ahead." She told him.

"You said you didn't want to talk about it." He pointed out. "I'm not going to pile on."

"I just think her reaction is understandable, Henry. She's frustrated and confused and angry. I don't mind that she took it out on me."

"I do." He said setting aside his computer and moving to sit on the side of the bed close to her. "You are letting your false sense of guilt, cloud your judgement. You'd never put up with her talking to _me_ like that."

"Oh, God!" She said her shoulders slumped. "I am so tired."

"So sleep." He said compassionately. He threw the covers back. "Come on, Babe. Just sleep."

"How can I sleep? For God's sake, Henry, it could just as easily be Ali and Stevie in that prison! No one will even budge! That whole world! I don't belong there! I'm not a diplomat! They are worried about deals and optics - and all I can think about is that picture of the two of them in their school uniforms! They look like our girls. They look like my babies!"

"Hey," He reached out, and grabbing hold of her hand, pulled her toward the bed. "You are just so tired, Babe. C'mon, get under the covers." She slowly crawled into bed.

"Sleep isn't going to change anything, Henry." She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. He sat down beside her, pulling the covers up around her. "I'm out of options. No one care about those little girls. They are going to die before they turn sixteen, and there's nothing I can do about it."

He said nothing, caressing her face with his hand. There was a light knock at the door, and they heard Ali's voice, soft and anxious. "Mom?" He raised an eyebrow, but she nodded her head, and scooted to a sitting position, as he crossed the room opening the door. Alison stood hesitant, her face down, shame on her face.

"I'm sorry, Mom." She said softly. "I was really unfair." She glanced at her father. "Dad, you were right. I'm sorry." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her cheek.

"I forgive you, Noodle." He said softly. "Go give Mama a kiss."

She crossed the room and sat down beside her mother. "I'm really sorry, Mom. You must be worn out from so much work and then I had to act like such a jerk."

"Come here," Her mother said, wrapping her arms around her. "I know it's upsetting, baby. It upsets me."

Alison rested against Elizabeth's shoulder. "I don't understand it at all. They are a family. How can her parents force her to marry someone? They must care about her. Can you love someone and still treat them like that? I just don't understand! She's younger than me! I don't understand it at all."

"I don't either." Elizabeth confessed, kissing Ali's forehead.

"If anyone can figure something out, though, you can. You are really good at getting people to change their minds. And I'm sorry for how hard it must be, but I'm glad you are there. I'm glad there is someone who cares about what happens to girls like Anoosh and Marjara."

"Better get to bed honey." Henry said gently, when it was clear that Elizabeth was incapable of any response. "Good night, Noodle."

"Night, Mom." She said kissing her mother's cheek. She rose and turned to kiss her father, but Henry pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek. "I love you, Noodle." He said softly. "Sleep well."

She glanced back at them as she left the room, nearly grown but somehow still too young to understand the way that her quiet faith in her mother, strengthened both her parent's hearts. Henry watched as Elizabeth slid down into the bed, and saying nothing crossed the room, clicking out the light. He climbed into bed beside her, and wrapped his arms around her, his cheek resting against her head.

"She's right." He said softly. "Those girls are fortunate that their is someone who is listening. It matters that you are trying."

"I can't work miracles." She said softly. "I can't change an entire village steeped in ancient traditions."

"I know." He kissed her cheek. "But those girls will know you tried, and Alison and Stevie will know you did everything in your power."

"It won't be enough."

"Close your eyes, and sleep, darlin'" He whispered.

She closed her eyes, trying to somehow forget the picture of the bright smiling faces of two young girls who longed for and deserved a future every bit as much as her own daughters.

***MS***

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE_

 _Every time I write a story for MS, I have to spend entirely too much time, studying up on international relations. I read this insanely fantastic book, called_ _I Am Nujood, Age 10, Divorced_ _which talked about the practice of child marriages in Yemen. Her heartbreaking story talks about her frustration that once she was forced to marry a man in his fifties, he never let her play with her barbies any more. She also wrote of the terrible things that happened at night, but again and again she mentioned her sorrow at not being able to play with her dolls. It is horrible to even consider. Most countries have officially outlawed such horrible practices, but even the tiniest bit of internet research will reveal small villages or tribes, that do not adhere to official policy. It is chilling to think that on any given day nearly 65 million girls are denied the right to attend school each day and that nearly 200 million children worldwide are prevented from education due to enslavement and poverty._

 _It would be difficult to imagine Elizabeth McCord being able to stomach such atrocities, and it is yet another reminder that our leaders are humans, and they must bear the weight of all the changes they desire but that they are powerless to make._

 _Thanks for all the reviews. Hoping that my next chapter or author's notes aren't such a bummer, but then again, I am luxuriating in the freedom to think and create as human - something that is rare and to be treasured!_


	3. Chapter 3

_State Department, Saturday 9:47 p.m._

Jay stepped into Nadine's office. She held up a hand and continued speaking into the phone.

"You understand we are out of time? If you don't act, dawn will come and those sisters will be killed." She kept her voice controlled and even, but her hand gripped a pen so tightly her knuckles were white.

"I am listening. You've explained it to me more than once." She nodded her head. "It doesn't change anything. They will be killed and their blood is on all our hands."

"Fine. I will convey you message." She slammed the phone down, snapping the pen in half as she did. "God damn it!" She exclaimed. She looked up at Jay, blushing. "I'm sorry. . . I. . ."

"Don't apologize. I just cursed a blue streak myself." He glanced down, and reaching for a handkerchief, sprang forward. "You cut your hand!" He wrapped her bloody finger with his handkerchief. "Ma'am, didn't you feel it?"

"No." She pulled her hand back, lifting the now blood-stained cloth. "It's not so bad."

He leaned in close. "Ma'am, you are going to need stitches! That's a deep cut!"

"I don't think I . . ." She protested but he was already lifting the phone.

"We need a medic at Nadine Tolliver's office. She cut her hand and it looks pretty deep." He paused, listening intently. "Yes, I think so. No, that isn't necessary. No. I'll bring her myself. Yes. Thank you." He hung up the phone.

"Jay, really, I'm fine. You are over-reacting." She winced in pain in spite of her words.

"Keep pressure on it. Where's your coat? They are calling ahead to GW. C'mon, I'll take you."

"We are supposed to . . ."

"Nadine, your hand is dripping blood, you are pale as a ghost, and there's nothing left to do. Get your coat. I'll text Blake." He waited and added softly. "This is the only problem we can actually fix tonight. Let's go."

***MS***

"What did Jay say? Did he have any luck?" Elizabeth McCord stood in the doorway of her office, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. She brushed her hair back with her hand, her waves wild and unruly. Her shirt was untucked in back, but most telling of all, her feet were bare, her heels abandoned in her office.

"Ma'am, there was a minor accident. Ms. Tolliver cut her hand. Jay took her to GW. It looks like she needs seven stitches."

"What!" Her eyes grew huge. "Why didn't anyone tell me? How did . . ."

"It just happened and you were on the phone. She's fine." Blake reassured her.

"I don't understand. How did she cut her hand?"

"Just an accident, Ma'am. She was holding a . . . It doesn't really matter." He exhaled slowly. "Ma'am, they were unsuccessful as well."

She nodded her head, and took a step back. "Alright." Her voice was brittle and she half-turned back toward her office.

"Shall I have them get your car?" He asked gently. She stood frozen and silent. Her face hidden by shadows. After a long pause she looked up at him with piercingly bright blue eyes.

"We could still . . ."

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry. There's no one left to call."

"I know that!" She said sharply. "I'm not . . ." She stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Blake. I . . . I'm sorry." She turned toward her office. "Nadine is alright?" She asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. She wanted to come back but I told Jay to take her home."

"Good." She said, she moved a step closer to her office, a hand on the door way. "You go home, too, Blake. There's nothing left to do." Her back was to him.

"I'll notify your detail."

"No, that isn't necessary. I have some paperwork to attend to."

"Ma'am, I'm sure that any paperwork can wait until next week. It's very late, and . . ."

She turned back toward him, her face lit with irritation, "Blake, I think I know best . . ."

She was, however, cut off as Russell Jackson, following tradition, stepped into the outer office, completely unannounced.

"There were rumors you were all still here. It's after ten on a Saturday night. Shouldn't you and your husband be at the opera or something?"

"Sir, if you would like an appointment to see the Secretary, we can step over to my desk, and look at her calendar." Blake said, stepping closer to Mr. Jackson, and blocking him from moving toward the Secretary of State's office.

Russell glanced around Blake's shoulder, meeting Elizabeth's eyes. "He's really got his role down pat, doesn't he? That kind of loyalty is hard to find in this town. Conrad always said you were the best analyst he'd ever trained."

"That's alright, Blake." She gave a half-smile to her assistant. "Why don't you go ahead and send for that car. I don't imagine, Mr. Jackson will take up much of my time." She raised an eyebrow at Russell. She turned away and walked into her office, moving to the couch and finding her shoes.

"You've had a couple of long days, haven't you?" Russell asked, glancing around her office.

"I have." She slid her heels onto her feet and lowered herself onto the couch. "Is there something specific you want to discuss, or did you come here to gloat over my failure? I'm just headed home."

He considered her a moment before lowering himself into a nearby chair. "The middle East was your area of expertise." He pointed out to her. "There's no way you couldn't have expected any outcome than this. You are far too intelligent for that."

"I must be hallucinating, but did you just say I was intelligent?"

"Bess, we may not see eye to eye, but you certainly have figured out by now, that I think you are pretty damn impressive."

"I'm grateful I'm already sitting down." She said, her eyes wide.

"I told you two days ago to drop this - that it wouldn't do anything, but drag us deeper into an impossible and unsolvable situation. The world has been watching us, watching you desperately trying to prevent the inevitable. And now, it is clear to everyone that we are completely powerless."

"Well, there's the Russell I know and love." She stood and crossing the room reached for her coat, sliding it on. "Any other words of encouragement?"

"No. You've finally faced reality and are giving up?" He asked her, rising slowly.

"Russell, why did you come here?" She asked reaching for her bag. "I haven't been home since, I can't even remember, and if there isn't something important to discuss, I'd like to go."

"No." He said shaking his head. "There's nothing."

"Fine." She strode out of the office, angry and determined.

"Your car is ready." Blake said as she passed his desk.

She froze at the sound of her assistant's voice. Setting her bag down and doubling back to her office where Russell stood in the doorway. "Did you just come here to piss me off so I would storm out of here?"

Russell shrugged. "I planned on gently suggesting that you head home, but things took a turn."

"I swear to God, Russell, I never know if I should just punch you or say, 'Thank you.'"

"Eww." He crinkled his nose in disgust. "I'm not really comfortable with either choice. Let's just leave things as they are. I'm a jackass, and you should leave."

She considered him a moment, and gave a slight nod. She turned toward Blake, stopping in front of her young assistant. His face was pale, and although still impeccable dressed, his normally perfect hair, fell in messy waves.

"Thank you for everything you did, Blake. I wish things had turned out differently. I really do."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Go home. Be young and go out with friends. I'm sorry to have taken up your weekend - especially on such a fruitless mission. I'll see you Monday." She reached out squeezing his hand for a brief moment. She turned and gather her bag, she left.

Blake stood where he was a moment longer, glaring at Russell Jackson, who glared back, and then said, as a slow smile spread over his face, "Go on, Blake. She sent you home."

"Yes, sir." Blake's response was respectful, but his tone was bitter.

"You can't hate me, son. I'm the one who got her to leave." Jackson stood beside Blake's desk, and meeting the assistant's eye, gave the briefest of winks.

"I find you very confusing, sir."

"Things are as they should be, then." Russell told him. "Thank you for working so hard these last few days. She relies on you, and it is good to see you are worthy of that trust. Do as she said. Get some rest. Come, Monday, this is all still going to be here. This department made a public show of trying to save those girls, and the press isn't going to treat her failure with compassion."

"It wasn't a failure." Blake responded defensively.

"Those girls are dead already." Russell said. "They were dead the day they defied their father, and Secretary McCord knows that. She's known it from the second this whole thing started."

"So, you believe it was foolish to try?" Blake crossed his arms over his chest.

"Where did she find you?" Russell asked with a laugh. "I didn't say it was foolish. But trying to stop it; It wasn't the move of a politician."

"She isn't a politician." Blake responded.

"No." Russell agreed. "She's not. And this town is going to break her." Blake opened his mouth in protest, but Russell Jackson lifted his hand. "No, I know what you are going to say. But you honestly think, she's going to wake up Monday morning, full of optimism and hope?" He shook his head. "We both know, Iran nearly destroyed her. And things like this disaster, are slowly chipping away at her."

"How do you manage day after day?" Blake asked in genuine wonder.

Russell shrugged. "I have spent a lifetime as far as I can from hope and joy. But now, it's just across the street - or storming into my office two or three times a week making demands." He sighed. "Blake, listen to your boss. Go home and get some rest. And then you listen to me. You promise to come back here Monday, and do everything in your goddamn power, to keep that woman as irritatingly hopeful as you can." And with a nod at Blake, he walked down the hall.

"Yes, sir." Blake called softly after him, too exhausted and and far too stunned to say anything else.

***MS***

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE_

 _I bet you a billion fake dollars that season two will prove me wrong, but I secretly think, that Russell adores Elizabeth. She is his opposite - all hope and possibilities while he hovers at the edges of doom and despair. I've developed a little crush and the tiny, little curmudgeon. It's nothing like my passionate adoration of Henry, or my love of Blake, but still, I've got a soft spot for Russell._

 _Secondly, IF the President's plane really is missing, and she becomes President, she sure as hell better demand that they ONLY one who pilots Air Force One, is Henry. No joke. Planes are bad on MS._

 _Thanks for the reviews._


	4. Chapter 4

_Georgetown, McCord Residence, Saturday 10:45 pm_

Henry McCord had just turned off every light and locked up the house. He was reaching for the hall light when Alison's soft voice caused him to look toward her doorway. She stood wearing a pair of flannel pajamas and an old shirt of his. She looked so young and sweet that it pained him to see true anguish etched into her innocent features.

"What are you doing up?" He asked.

"I can't sleep. Did Mom come home?"

"A few minutes ago. She's in the shower." He stepped closer and reached out to put an arm around her thin shoulders when she leaned in hugging him tightly.

"I don't understand." She said, her voice breaking. "It's so stupid! This isn't 1822!"

"Some things are difficult." He told her.

"It could be me!"

"God no!" He stepped back from her, his heart pounding, feeling a wave of nausea hit him at the thought. "I would never . . ."

"Different time. Different place." She said angrily, a finger pointed at him. "Different set of values! It would be me! I would never, ever marry some disgusting old man! I would rather die!" Her dark eyes brimmed with tears. "And Anoosh is going to. Or has she already?"

"Not yet." He sighed.

"Tomorrow." She said wiping a tear. "What's the time difference? 16? 18 hours? Tomorrow afternoon, I'll be doing my chem homework and she'll be stoned to death!"

"Alison," He pulled her back into his arms, her head resting against his chest. "Sweetheart, you are right, all of this is wrong. I know it hurts. It hurts me too. I don't understand how a father could . . ." He stopped himself, unable to finish the thought. "Mom has done nothing else for the last few days - she hasn't eaten, hadn't slept, hasn't come home to us."

"But it doesn't matter. They are still going to die."

"Baby, it does matter. Nothing matters more. The world knows what's happening. They aren't dying forgotten and alone. Everyone is reading Anoosh's blog. She won't be forgotten, and maybe things will change."

"That doesn't help Anoosh or Maraja."

"No. And it doesn't keep our hearts from breaking at the injustice of it."

"Is Mom okay?" She looked up with giant, trusting eyes.

"Are you?" Alison shook her head, and he kissed her forehead before continuing. "Of course she isn't. You are upset. She is upset. I am upset. This is difficult. It's one thing to see tragedies happen on the news. It is an entirely different experience to see the weight of those events on the shoulders of people you love."

"Do you wish she never took the job?"

His shoulders sagged, his forehead crinkling in thought. "I absolutely have moments when I do. There are times when I wish, for her sake, we were safe on the farm."

"An 'unchallenged life'." She quoted.

"Yes." He nodded surprised she remembered the words of one his countless lectures to his children about boldness and courage in difficult days.

"But, if she weren't Secretary of State, we'd be at war with Iran." She pointed out.

"Yes." He agreed. "And maybe no one would even know Anoosh had lived."

She sighed, hugging him tightly. "But I still wish . . ."

"I know, Noodle, me to - with all my heart."

"'Darkness reminds us where light can be.'l she said looking up at him.

"Yes." He said, his voice suddenly husky. "Who said that?"

"It's a song but I bet it came from one of your dead guys." She gave a sad grin. "I'm okay. You should go to Mom."

"You sure?" He asked and she nodded her head.

"Thanks Dad. Especially for being honest. If you told me you never wished she hadn't taken the job, I would've known you were lying. I'm glad you can tell me the truth. It makes me feel better because sometimes I really, really hate her job."

"Me too." He agreed.

"But mostly, I'm super proud." She added.

"Me, too." He turned to go but paused when Alison said softly.

"She's the light." She blushed when her father's eyes settled on hers. "It sounds kinda cheesy but she is, isn't she. It's a lot of darkness, but she's where the light is."

He hugged her again, and kissing the top of her head said quietly, "The truth is never cheesy, Noodle. And you shine just as bright as she does." He smiled at her and added. "Go to sleep, hon."

"'Night."

He moved down the hallway, and paused outside his son's room. "Kind of late."

"I'm turning out the light." Jason said, tossing a graphic novel on the floor. He was sprawled out on his bed. "Mom came home?"

"Yep. She's wiped out though. Something you need?" He asked.

"Nah." He shrugged. "Stevie and Alison were all upset this afternoon."

"Yeah. I talked to Stevie before she went to work." He studied Jason thoughtfully. "You aren't upset?"

"I don't know. I'm not ballin' my eyes out like them, but it's messed up." He shrugged again. "It sucks that for all their crazy unchecked power the government can't actually do anything. And Mom's gotta be . . . I don't know. I don't like it."

"Me either." Henry agreed.

"This is why governmental organizations are a stupid idea. I mean you and me and Mom know what needs to be done, but none of us can do anything about it - not even her. And all the corrupt losers don't even care and she's probably . . ."

"Maybe go easy on the destruction of the corrupt system talk around Mom for a couple of days." Henry suggested gently.

"I'm not stupid." Jason said.

"I did not think you were. But sometimes it's easy to get swept up in things we feel passionate about and forget about how it impacts the people around us."

"Yeah, like going on and on about Aristotle when your kids just want to go get frozen yogurt." Jason said with a grin.

"Yes," Henry agreed. "Just like that." He smiled at Jason. "Go to sleep. We aren't doing anything tomorrow, so sleep late."

"See, that's the kind of dictatorial leadership I can get behind." Jason said with a grin.

"I figured as much. You know Ghandi once said . . ."

"Something about something and then he got shot." Jason interrupted.

"You have been listening." Henry told him. "Good night, son."

"Night." Jason waited until Henry was at the door and the room was dark before adding quietly. "I'd never let Ali or Stevie marry some creepy old dude. And if they got thrown in jail for refusing, I'd bust them out, no matter what."

"I know you would."

"The whole thing is so stupid."

"It's hard to process." Henry agreed.

"Bad stuff happens, I get that. But it sucks because Mom's gonna be so . . ." He let out a long sigh. "It's stupid. I hate it when things are stupid."

"Me too, but Mom is going to be fine. She's pretty tough."

"Mom's pretty badass." Jason agreed.

"Watch the language." Henry admonished. "But yeah, she's about as badass as they come. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Sure, night Dad."

He couldn't remember, anymore if he had locked the back door, so he went down the stairs and into the kitchen to check, just as Stevie came up the steps.

"Hey, I was just about to give up." He told her. "Late night?"

"Yeah! I do not understand when people walk in the door ten minutes before closing and say things like, 'Oh, good! We just made it!' Don't they know every worker in the place hates them?"

"When I was in high school and worked at the burger joint, there was this group of college kids who came in five minutes before closing every Saturday night and ordered twenty burgers to go. God, I hated them!"

"There are about twenty idiots out front with cameras, so I'm guessing Mom made it home."

"Yeah, about an hour ago." He told her. "We had some sort of noodle thing that Alison made. It wasn't bad, just sort of tasteless."

"I'm too tired to eat." Stevie said. "Mom will be home tomorrow?"

"She'll have to get past me if she's gonna try and go in, and I think I've persuaded Frank to back me up, so I think, yeah."

"Good. Sleep late, I'll manage the brats, if you want."

"You know, sometimes, it almost seems like you like your mother." Henry teased her.

"I never said I didn't." Stevie offered, but blushed remembering countless arguments during her senior year. "Well, at least not lately. I never meant any of that anyway. You guys know that. She's a tough act to follow, that's all."

"I was just teasing." He said with a laugh. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek. "I know that everything got screwed up, but we are so grateful you've been here, Stephanie Elizabeth. You help us out so much."

"Stevie." She said pushing herself away. "It's not complicated, Dad. The name is Stevie."

"Hey, I wanted to name you Cecilly Antionette, you lucked out."

"Oh, God, I hope that isn't true!" She shook her head at him. "I'm going up. Is Noodle still awake?"

"She was a few minutes ago."

"I bet she's a wreck. She's been reading Anoosh's blog all day." She turned to the freezer, grabbing a carton of ice cream. "Midnight comfort." She winked at him.

"Save some for Mom."

"There's another gallon. I'm not an idiot."

"I didn't think you were. I've been getting that a lot today." He furrowed his brows.

"Hmm. . ." She smiled at him. "Perhaps you should look inward."

"Go cheer up your sister." He said shaking his head at her. "Unless you are going for the Awesomest Child of the Year Award."

"I already got it locked up." She grinned. "Night Dad."

"Night, sweetheart."

He clicked out the last light, and stood in the darkness of the kitchen, listening to the quiet, familiar noises of the house. He could hear the creak as Stevie, crossed Alison's floor. He couldn't hear them talking, but knew as he went past Noodle's room, he would hear the soft murmur of their voices - two sisters who spent 1/3 of their life arguing, nestled close together for comfort. He turned toward the stairs, his eyes landing on an old picture of Elizabeth, with Jason, a toddler on her hip and Alison and Stevie standing on either side of her. They were at some amusement park, and the kids small faces were lit with contentment and joy. Elizabeth looked exhausted but her smile was huge. She wasn't facing the camera, her face was turned toward Stevie who was pointing a tiny finger at something in the distance.

There was something about the picture he'd always loved. Elizabeth hated it. "My hair looks ridiculous. What was I even thinking?" He wasn't overly fond of that particular hairstyle, but she was radiantly beautiful in the picture nonetheless. Somehow the shutter of the camera had managed to catch the sweetest look between Stevie and her mother. Elizabeth's eyes lit with love, and Stevie's a radiant mirror. He always thought that particular picture summed Elizabeth up best; even in the photo she was focused on those around her, not herself.

He tilted his head listening, and could no longer her the running water. She was out of the shower, and he hoped, ready to sleep, but knowing his wife, he imagined, they'd have a long night ahead of them. He hesitated wondering, if he should grab the other container of ice cream, but recognized that some hurts were too deep for small comforts.

***MS***

 _Author's Note_

 _I am relieved to find that others have a secret affection for Russell too, and I appreciate your reviews. I of course, have more chapter to this - including some nice Church and State time._


	5. Chapter 5

_Georgetown, McCord Residence, Saturday, 11:25 p.m._

"I know that look." Elizabeth said as Henry stepped into the bedroom. She was sitting cross-legged on the end of their bed, rubbing her hair with a towel. She unfolded herself, and rose, returning to the bathroom to toss her towel in the hamper. "I'm too exhausted to talk, Babe." She told him. "And to be honest, I don't feel anything; I'm just drained."

"It's been a pretty bad week, and you must be exhausted." He responded carefully.

"Henry," She set her face in an angry scowl. "I just said I don't want to talk! Please, just leave it alone."

"I didn't ask you any questions and I wasn't going to . . ." He put a hand to his own chest, recognizing they were in deep waters already. "I'm just concerned about you and . . ."

"The Middle East is no surprise to me, Henry." She said tersely. She crossed back to the bed, pulling back the covers. "It's not like I wasn't fully aware of what the outcome was gonna be."

He said nothing recognizing that, despite her claim otherwise, she did, in fact, seem to want to talk. He found that sometimes, despite his aching desire to gently comfort her, what she really need was for him to let her rage.

"I mean Conrad and Russell both told me to drop it two days ago. And what?" She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands held out wide. "Some tribal leader is gonna change his mind because some _woman_ in America spoke to every ambassador on the planet! No, there's nothing to talk about. It's just how things go."

She scooted back into the bed, pulling her knees up to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs.

"I guess it was a foolish waste of time, now that I look back at it. That damn needle never moved. It didn't matter how hard I pushed, or who I talked to. I mean I had my whole damn staff doing nothing else night and day for three days and it doesn't even matter! It was a stupid waste of time!" Her voice cracked and it took every ounce of control he had to remain silent.

"Those little girls were doomed from the minute they disobeyed their father! No one even cares about them, and it was so stupid to think anything I said mattered." She was crying now, her face a twisted mix of pain and anger.

"Damn it, Henry!" She said lifting a hand to wipe her tears. "I said I didn't want to talk about it! I just wanna sleep!"

"So sleep." He said the words as gently as he could.

Her wide, blue eyes locked on his. "How am I supposed to do that?" She asked, as tears streamed down her face. "Those two sweet little girls are going to be buried in a pit up to their waists and then the men from the village, including their uncles, brothers and father will. . ."

"Elizabeth, stop." He sat down across from her, his arms on hers. "Babe, that's enough."

"It's what's going to happen! I'm just telling you the truth."

"You are hurting yourself and I'm not gonna allow that! It wasn't a waste of your time, Babe. Everything you did mattered. It mattered to Anoosh. It mattered to Majara. It mattered to Alison and Stevie. It wasn't a waste and you aren't a fool." He ran a hand up her arm and over her shoulder, desiring nothing more than to keep her close.

"But they are still going to die." She whispered. "I couldn't save them. I just wanted to save them."

"I know, sweetheart and I'm so sorry you couldn't. I'm so sorry for them."

"I know I can't get upset like this." She said, her voice still angry. She looked up at him. "I can't cry like a baby because things didn't go my way!"

He sat back from her, shaking his head. "Elizabeth, that's not why you are crying." He placed a hand on top of her knees, and gave a gentle push so that she moved, stretching her legs out; removing the barrier between them. He slid into the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly back against his chest. She remained silent, her muscles rigid.

"What did you tell your staff?" He asked softly.

"Some bullshit about their efforts being noble; their attempts to save them significant."

"It wasn't bullshit. C'mon, Babe, stop it. Stop being so mean to yourself!"

"I just . . ."

"Sweetheart, if you didn't cry over this; if this didn't break our hearts, it would be time to get out of this city! It would be a sign this place has destroyed you."

"My devastation is a good thing?" She asked him bitterly.

" _Our_ devastation proves we are still us." He told her.

She turned so she could see his face. Her eyes were wide and bright with tears, and her face completely open. He drew in a breath, deeply pained by the raw anguish marring her features.

"How can their mother just. . .I can't close my eyes, Henry. I see them and I keep remembering that stoning I saw back in '94. And it all gets mixed up with Alison and Stevie. How can they let them . . .He is going to stone his own baby girls?" She clung tightly to him, her body shaking. He'd forgotten that; forgotten how hurt and traumatized she'd been after being forced to witness a stoning. She'd come home to him pale, and shaking and dreamt about for a long time after. He'd been so enraged at the time at The Company for allowing it to happen and at Conrad for telling her she "needed to see and accept the realities of the world in which she worked." It was one of the many reasons his relationship with Conrad was still strained. Elizabeth looked up to him as a mentor and friend, while Henry always held him in suspicion; confident that if things turned south, Conrad Dalton would sell Elizabeth out to save his own skin.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He whispered. "But I am so proud of you and I love you; I love you for trying so hard to save them and I wish more than anything you had been able to stop this. And I wish it didn't hurt so badly." He pulled her in tighter, his lips brushing her forehead as he spoke.

He could offer no other words. There was nothing to say. No scripture would align this horrific act to anything rational. It was utterly wrong and utterly dark. He held her tightly, kissing her forehead, her cheek, and when his lips found hers, he recognized that the only comfort they could offer one another was the loving nearness of their bodies. And he actually prayed, even as he leaned deeper into their kiss that for just this little space of time her deeply wounded heart would be comforted.

*** MS***

Alison McCord awoke with a start, sitting up in bed. Her heart was pounding but she couldn't remember any nightmare. She glanced at her clock which read 4:23 a.m. The house was silent but throwing back the covers she tip toed quietly downstairs.

Her mother was sitting in the family room, a cup of coffee in her hand. The room was dark, except for one small lamp.

"Mom?" Alison whispered softly and her mother turned around setting down the cup which appeared to contain not coffee but rather something clear. She wondered at it. _Drinking?_ In the middle of the night?

"What are you doing up?" Her mother asked, and Alison sat beside her on the couch.

"I woke up all of the sudden - like I'd had a bad dream but I don't remember having one." She scooted closer to her mother, nestling against Elizabeth's shoulder, comforted as her mother ran a hand through her long, dark hair.

"Did it happen?" Alison asked, suddenly afraid of why she'd woken up.

"Yes." Her mother whispered softly, her voice laced with anguish. "They were supposed to wait until dawn but . . ."

"Anoosh is dead?" Alison asked turning to face her mother.

"Baby, I'm so sorry." Elizabeth said pulling her shaking daughter close to her chest. "I'm so sorry."

"And Majara?"

"Sweetheart," She kissed Alison's forehead. "This is really difficult, and it is so hard to understand."

"She's dead, too?"

"No." Her mother sat back from her, lifting a hand to brush the hair back from her face. "They killed Anoosh and made her. . ." She cleared her throat. "They made Majara watch and afterwards told her that they would spare her . . ." She paused, wiping tears from her own face. "She didn't die. She was married."

"Oh God!" Alison jumped up, her face white. "Oh God! She _married_ him?" Her hands fluttered in the air and she spun right then left. "Mom!"

Elizabeth rose and stepped toward Alison, a hand outstretched. "Noodle, wait. Noodle, I'm so . . ."

"I'm gonna be sick!"

Alison fled the room, dashing into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. Elizabeth followed, kneeling beside her, holding her hair back. Alison collapsed against the wall, as her mother handed her a cup of water and a wash cloth.

"Rinse your mouth, sweetheart."

Alison did and then sat with her back against the wall, the washcloth to her face. Elizabeth sat down across from her. It was only in the bright light of the bathroom that Alison could see her mother's face was red and blotchy. She stretched out a hand, clinging to her mother's fingers.

"Where's Dad?" She asked.

"Asleep. I got the call a little while ago."

"You should wake him."

"Why?" Her mother's eyes filled with tears. "It won't change anything. Anoosh will still be dead, and Majara will still be suffering unspeakable cruelties. Why wake him just to break his heart, too?"

"She's Jason's age." Alison whispered. "She should be reading _Harry Potter_ and dreaming about some stupid boy band. They made her marry him? Why? I don't understand! To prove they are stronger? To prove she was wrong?"

"To keep her and all the other girls in her village in line. To make sure everyone knows their place." Her mother answered bitterly.

"They are _cowards!_ " Alison was furious. "They aren't men!" She stood her fist balled tightly! "I hate them."

"Shhh . . ." She felt her mother's arms around her and realized she was sobbing loudly as though she were a toddler who had lost her beloved toy.

"Mama!" She heard her own voice, high and babyish. "Mama, please." She didn't even know what she was begging for - to wind time backwards so that Anoosh and Majara were two sisters walking together to school again or maybe further back in time; back to the farm - back to before.

"What's. . ." She turned to see her father in the doorway, his hair wild and his face still pink from sleep. "'Lizabeth? It was supposed to . . . I thought it was this afternoon!"

"They didn't wait!" Alison said angrily. "Those monsters! They couldn't wait to kill her!" She pushed away from her mother, standing between her parents, a powerful rage sweeping over her. Her mother's quiet sobs were a faint background, as she turned to her father. "You didn't stop it! Why? No one stopped it." She pushed against his chest wanting to hurt someone or something.

"Noodle, no!" Her mother moved toward her.

"I hate them! I hate them." Her fist landed against her father's shoulders but he only pulled her closer to him.

"Shhh." He whispered. "Shhh. It's okay, Noodle. Hush. I'm right here."

"Please!" She found herself pleading again. "Make it go away. I wanna go home. I wanna go home!"

She felt herself slipping, sliding to the floor, and then even as her father held her in his strong arms, everything was swallowed up in darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

_Spencer Family Nursery, Georgetown Sunday, 11:17 a.m._

Henry McCord followed his daughter through the backlot of the nursery. She paused in front of a section of young trees, studying the signs thoughtfully.

He never seemed to recognize the moment when his daughters switched over from little girl to woman. It always seemed to happen suddenly. One minute he was looking down at a tiny girl with pigtails, and then suddenly he was standing eye to eye, with a fiery woman who was not about to back down about anything. Alison had always been close to him. She had a gentle, compassionate heart, who always thought things through very carefully. She was their deep thinker; Noodle. She was a worrier though, plagued by bad dreams when she was younger, and always close to both of them. She could be loud, feisty and outspoken, too - particularly when speaking out against injustice. She was her mother's daughter after all, but she was his, too; a lovely combination of his introspective spirit and Elizabeth's boldness.

"This one." She turned, looking up at him.

"Seriously?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I know it's expensive, but I still have my birthday money, and I think it will fit in the . . ."

"No, I don't care about the price. It's just . . . this one? But it's . . .why?"

"I don't know. It's pretty and it just . . . It seems familiar." She blushed. "That sounds dumb."

"No, darlin'. It actually makes perfect sense. And I think this is a really good idea. You've got a good heart." He wrapped her in a hug. "C'mon let's go pay for it"

"Do you really think it's a good idea?" She asked him for third time since she'd come to him earlier that morning.

"Does it make you feel better?" He asked her.

She paused, considering the question thoughtfully before answering. "Doing something feels better than sitting around trying not to be depressed, so I guess so."

"Then it's the best idea anyone's ever had." He said squeezing her shoulder. "Anything, _anything_ that comforts you is a good idea, Noodle."

"But will Mom think it's a good idea?" She asked him earnestly.

"Sweetheart, wait." He said, his voice suddenly husky. "Just, . . . let's get this home, and you talk to her. Trust me, okay?"

She nodded her head at him, and reaching for his hand, they made their way to the front of the nursery. Something about his children, especially his nearly grown daughters, still clinging to his hand always melted him. He missed their tiny upturned faces, and they way they used to squeal with glee when he would return to them each evening; it was the closest he'd ever come to being a rockstar.

Riding back to the house, she'd leaned her head against the window, her eyes drifting shut. It was beginning to rain, which really fit his mood - the general mood of the house, since early dawn had dealt them all a cruel blow.

He'd awoken to an empty bed, and the sound of Alison's voice; hurt and angry. He'd found them, Elizabeth and Alison in the downstairs bathroom - Alison completely distraught, and Elizabeth quietly sobbing. He'd known immediately that Anoosh was dead. He'd carried Alison upstairs to their bed, tucking her in under the covers, like she was a small child. They'd both sat beside her, desperate to comfort her; unable to comfort themselves. Exhausted by grief, she'd fallen into a fitful sleep. He'd turned to Elizabeth then, whose pale face, and red-rimmed eyes filled him with an unexpected rage. _Why?_ He thought over and over. _Why, must she be made to suffer?_

It was then that she revealed the whole story - far more horrible than he'd imagined - that Majara was alive - spared only by agreeing to the horrors of becoming a child bride in her dead sister's place. He'd been overcome with disgust, and anger. He understood why Alison had collapsed - destroyed and exhausted. Elizabeth sat beside Alison on their bed, running a hand through her hair, as she slept. He sat on the edge of the bed facing them both, his hand on Elizabeth's knee.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to her." Elizabeth said wearily.

"I don't either." He confessed.

"You don't? Oh, God, Henry! You've got to have something to help. Don't you have 5,000 scriptures tucked into your back pocket?" She tried to smile at him. "I'm counting on you to save the day, Superman."

"The only scripture I can think of is that curse about it being better to have a stone tied around your neck and jump into the ocean, than it is to bring harm to a little one." He offered softly.

"Yeah." She agreed nodding her head. "That's the right one, Henry." A stray tear slid down her face, and she wiped at it. "What time is it?" She asked sleepily.

"5:15. Why don't you crawl in next to her, Babe." He said compassionately. "You've got to be exhausted. What time did you get the call?"

"I don't know, around 4, I guess." She looked up at him, answering his unspoken question. "Why should you lose more sleep? She was still going to be dead when you woke up this morning. One of us should get some rest."

He said nothing in response, but rising from the bed, moved to pull the covers back for her. She shifted, and crawled into the bed, and he sat beside her, a hand brushing against her cheek.

"I don't understand, Henry." She said very softly. "If I can't stop it from happening, what's the point? Why am I there?"

He leaned forward kissing her forehead, "I don't know, babe, I really don't. But I know I'm glad you are there. I'm grateful for it." He sighed. "But God, I wish it didn't hurt you so."

In the end, they'd slept, the three of them smushed together in bed. His leg was half-hanging off the side of the bed, and it reminded him of when the children were small, and one or more of them would crawl in with them in the middle of the night. They'd all woken up just after seven, no more rested than the night before. He'd made pancakes, and they'd tried to have a normal morning despite the horrible cruelty of dawn. Stevie had taken the news hard, and Jason had said nothing, but they'd heard the steady pounding of the basketball against the backboard out back. It was far too early and Henry kept expecting the neighbors to call and complain, but instead of telling his son to stop, he'd gone outside and joined him. They played a long, rough game of basketball, and it was when they'd returned to the house, dripping with sweat that Alison had approached him.

"Dad, I've got something I want to do, but I need your help."

And so he'd found himself, wandering around a nursery on a cold and dreary Sunday morning, hoping that this small act would bring his family some peace.

***MS***

 _Georgetown, McCord Residence, Sunday 1:03 p.m._

"Mom?"

Alison's voice was soft, yet it still startled Elizabeth who sat at her desk. She hadn't been doing any work. She'd found herself staring at a blank computer screen, feeling confused, tired and numb.

"You're back!" She smiled at her daughter feeling a wave of relief wash over her. She hadn't wanted them to leave. In a strangely dependent moment, she had felt anxiety wash over her when Henry had come to her saying, "Ali needs me to help her with something, it will just be an hour, I think."

"Okay." She had said trying to hide the stress in her voice; in her heart.

He'd pulled her against his chest. "I'll be right back, Babe. I swear it's important. She wants it to be a secret just now, though." He turned looking into her eyes. "I'll be right back." He repeated.

"Okay." She'd answered flatly. "That's fine. I'm okay."

He'd smiled at this, and reaching out he'd held his chin in his fingers as leaning close, he'd whispered, "Liar" just before kissing her. She'd had to fight tears then.

She had wandered the house after they'd left, uncharacteristically restless. Stevie had gone up to her room, and was working on a paper for school. She'd leaned against the doorway, watching her for a few minutes before coming downstairs to find Jason playing a video game. She sat on the couch beside him.

"Wanna play?" He asked.

"Uh uh." She answered, still finding it strange that she did, indeed, know how to play the game. Sometimes, she _still_ enjoyed slipping into the mindlessness of game. It comforted her to lose herself in a game where she was infinitely powerful. Yet, it filled her with dark memories of those bleak first days after Iran; the blinding aching pain of loss and despair - herself cut off from her family, numb and alone.

Jason paused the game and turned to her. "We could watch a movie if you want."

"No, you can play your game."

"Nah," He said tossing aside his controller. "It's no big deal. Why don't you watch something?" She smiled at him, her constant trouble-maker. Yet, as in this very moment, he was so lovingly sensitive; desperate to somehow make his mother feel better. She leaned forward, catching him off guard, and sneaking in a kiss on his cheek before he could duck away with typical testosterone fueled bravado.

"I'll try and get some work done." She'd told him. "You go ahead and play." She ran a hand through his thick hair. "I'm fine, Jason. It's just a tough day."

"I'm not worried." He protested. "Do I look worried?" She'd smiled and he'd winked at her before reaching for his controller. She sat beside him for a few minutes more, comforted by his nearness, and then rising, she'd gone out toward the office, but he'd called after her, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'm sorry, Mom. The whole thing completely sucks."

"It does." She'd agreed.

She'd sat at her desk, distracted by the pictures near her computer - the kids small and happy, still enjoying the days when their mother had never been far from them. She couldn't help but wonder if taking this job was the cruelest thing she'd ever done - to them and to herself. And then suddenly, Alison was there, leaning in the doorway, hesitant and shy.

"Mom?" She repeated. "There's something, I want to . . ." She paused unsure. "Can you come out back?"

She glanced out the window at the rain, but sensing her daughter's urgency, she just nodded her head and followed her out through the kitchen. Stevie was sliding her arms into her coat, and Henry was standing next to the couch talking to Jason.

"Dude, get your coat." He was telling his son.

"A family meeting outside? In the rain?" Jason asked rising.

"I need your muscles, pal."

Stevie laughed at this. "I can help you, Dad." She offered.

"Hey!" Jason protested.

"Mom's got more muscles than him!" Alison added and Elizabeth frowned at the slight.

"I'm plenty strong." She said.

Henry raised an eyebrow at her. "I know, Babe. Just the other day, someone asked me if you were a bodybuilder." He smiled at her, as their children laughed. He held out her parka. "Here, sweetheart."

She put on the coat, frowning at him. "Sure, insult me _and_ call me sweetheart."

They'd trooped out the back door together, and she had been surprised to see a sapling sticking out the back of the car. She looked over at Henry stunned, but he had only turned to Alison.

"Go on, Noodle." He encouraged.

"Well, I . . ." She began, suddenly nervous. "Sitting around doing nothing seemed stupid, but there's nothing we can do, either. So I thought." She shrugged. "I don't know. Let's plant a tree; a tree for Anoosh and for Majara." She looked over at her mother, and continued. "And maybe for hope; so our hope doesn't die."

Which is how, Elizabeth McCord, Secretary of State of the United States of America, found herself standing in the back yard in the rain, sobbing as she hugged her sixteen year old daughter tightly, while her husband, and son dragged a tree out across the yard.

They'd all taken turns digging the hole, and it was only as she stepped back, her hands dirty, watching as Stevie and Henry, moved the tree into place, that she'd really looked closely at the tree. She'd turned to Alison, stunned. "What . . . what kind of tree . . . Henry?" She looked at her husband.

"It's a chestnut tree." Alison said. "I thought it was pretty. It doesn't look like much now, but when it is full grown it will be . . ."

"Beautiful." Elizabeth interrupted. "They have beautiful leaves, and they can be so big and . . . did Dad pick it out?"

"No. He let me pick." She turned to her mother. "Are you okay? You look really pale? Dad?"

He was patting dirt around, the tree but rose up, wiping his hands and going to his wife. "Tell, her, Elizabeth." He said wrapping a steadying arm around his wife, who curled her body in toward his. "She said it 'felt familiar'. I didn't say anything."

"Your grandfather had a small grove of them. I could see them from my bedroom window." She continued, wistfully. The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle dusting them all with a silvery light. "I loved the light on the leaves." She glanced over and smiled at Henry. "And then just a few years ago, your father knelt in the grass beneath the biggest chestnut tree and asked to marry me." She blushed shyly and Henry kissed her cheek.

"I remember those trees." Stevie said. "Fairyland!"

"Yes." Henry agreed. "Soon as we got Grandpa's you'd bolt straight for that grove."

"Really?" Alison asked looking up at her mother. "I didn't remember. I just . . . it looked pretty."

"It is." Elizabeth said, pulling Alison into an embrace. "And it will be for years to come. Who knows? Maybe someone will kneel down beneath it's shade and ask to marry one of you."

"Oh, God!" Stevie protested, laughing. "I hope not! They take decades to grow!"

"Sounds good to me." Henry said with a smile.

***MS***

 _Georgetown, McCord Residence, 4:12 p.m._

Elizabeth was stretched out across the chaise in her bedroom, a file in her hand and papers around her. Her glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She glanced up as the door to her bedroom opened and Henry, carrying a mug entered.

"Oh, thank you!" She said reaching out for the cup he offered her. She took a sip as he sat down on the end of the chaise facing her.

"The girls said they'll make dinner." He told her.

"Thank God!" She set the cup aside and began gathering papers. "I'm too tired to cook which is kind of ridiculous since I've done nearly nothing all day."

"Right." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You worked like crazy all week, hardly sleeping, came home to devastation, planted a tree, worked on endless piles of paperwork," He indicated the papers that she was sliding into her briefcase. "You pretty much were a slob today."

"It's shameful." She said with a wry smile.

"What did you decide?" He asked her.

"Henry, I've got to go." She reached for the cup, drinking more of the warm brew.

"The press is going to . . ."

"They can go to hell!" She leaned toward him. "This family has sacrificed too goddamn much for the press! I missed Noodle's sixteenth birthday! I'm not going to miss Jason's celebration! There's no way! I don't give a damn how it looks! Don't tell me _you_ care about optics?"

"No!" He shook his head. "But, Babe, I don't think I've recovered from listening to all that crap they said about you after the Micro Loan thing. I swear to God, I've never been so angry! And this . . . this going to be worse."

"Yes." She agreed. "But, Henry, he's fourteen years old! He's been looking forward to this for FOREVER. He and his friends had EVERYTHING planned out, and he scrapped it all - for me. I can't tell him I'm not going to go!"

"Okay." He nodded his head. "It's the right thing to do, but baby, it's going to get ugly."

"Unless, something worse happens to someone else." She offered. "Maybe the Vice President will be found with a joint?"

"We can only hope." He sighed, and reaching out ran a hand over her legs. "You know, I'm really proud of you, Babe. This job of yours. . . it is so much tougher than I anticipated. And I can't believe the things you've managed. But you are so right for it. There's no one else."

"C'mon, Henry. I'm just barely keeping it together, so don't . . ."

"No one would have said a word about those girls. Anoosh would've left this earth unknown." He continued, ignoring her protests. "And what you've taught our girls . . .I am so grateful that when I knelt beneath that chestnut tree, you said yes."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Me, too." She said huskily, reaching for his hand. "But no joke, Henry, all of us going to this game, tomorrow - the press is going to be vicious."

"We can deal." He leaned forward kissing her.


	7. Chapter 7

_McCord_ _Residence_ , _Sunday_ _9_ : _24_ _p_. _m_.

Stevie McCord flopped onto the couch next to her little brother who was, as usual, absorbed with a video game.

"Watch it." He said, without looking at her.

"I just sat down." She told him with a laugh. "I'm pretty sure I didn't disturb your violent onslaught against those alien things."

"Whatever."

"Feeling cranky, Jr.?" She teased trying to hide her worry.

She was nearly eight the year he was born and she spent a large portion of her childhood believing he was _her_ baby. She fussed over him, dressed him and fed him. Even now, despite the fact he was fourteen, she still felt an odd, maternal protectiveness toward him.

"C'mon." She nudged his shoulder. "Tell your Sissy."

"Knock it off." He said, trying not to smile. "It's just . . ."

"What?"

"Bender's all pissed off at me." He confessed.

"Seriously?"

"I cancelled at the last minute." He turned to glance her way. "It was kind of a jerk move."

"No. Telling you he was going to go and then canceling over some girl, and then changing his mind again is a jerk move, J. You explained why, right?"

"Yeah, but his mom took off when he was a kid so he doesn't understand. And Niki is all pissed at him because he ditched her and now it is for nothing."

"I _really_ don't like this girl!" She told him. "Does _she_ understand that you changed everything because mom has worked night and day to save those girls, and you wanted to cheer her up? I mean what girl would . . ."

"She's kind of a princess." He sighed.

"No, she isn't!" Stevie interrupted. "She's selfish! And if Bender is going to be mad at you - that's his issue. I mean, did you do anything wrong? Are the other guys mad?"

"No. I mean, they were kind of disappointed but they got it. They've been here. They know Mom. I mean, not like the guys back home did, but they like her."

"It was a good thing you did, kid. It made her happy. Focus on that - not Bender and his girl problems."

"You think it made her happy?" He asked shyly.

"You saw her face. It was a good move. She knows you've been looking forward to it and planning forever." She reached over running a hand over his thick hair. "You are a good little nerd."

"Knock it off." He protested, pushing her hand away.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" Alison asked coming into the room and flopping into the chair next to Stevie.

"Dad's trying to convince her to sleep." Stevie said.

"Right!" Ali said. "Mom never sleeps." She sighed. "Today was probably the suckiest day ever!"

"Since Iran." Jason added.

"Oh, geez! Now I'm twice as depressed. Any other horrible family memories you wanna bring up?"

"Well, there was that fight Stevie and Mom had for like 97 weeks."

Stevie punched his arm. "Don't be a jackass! You were doing so well, too!"

"I knew it wouldn't last." Alison said. "So is anyone famous going to this game?"

"It's the Knicks!" Jason said famous people are there all the time.

"Like who?" Ali asked.

"The United States Secretary of State?" Stevie offered.

Alison rolled her eyes. "Not _Washington_ famous - actually famous."

"Look, guys, there's one thing." Stevie said seriously. "The press is going to be all over this. They aren't going to be nice about it either."

"Well, duh, Stevie." Alison said sarcastically. "Because up until now they've been completely awesome."

"God, I hate those assholes! Why don't they stay away!"

"Because they are assholes." Ali pointed out. "But why? Mom, tried really hard to save Anoosh, and everyone knows it."

"Yeah, genius, _everyone_ knows it." Jason said bitterly. "Everyone knows Mom didn't stop it. It makes the government look bad. It makes us seem weak."

"After all the garbage that's been going on, people think administration isn't very effective."

Stevie explained. "And this doesn't help."

"That's all crap!" Alison said. "Mom's done nothing but make things better!"

"Jesus, Ali! What world do you live in! They tried to send her to prison for the stuff she did! The world is full of jackasses! And they are all gonna have their cameras trained on her!"

"On us." Stevie corrected. "So none of this picking on each other crap, okay? Ali stop telling Jason he is stupid, and you," she turned to her brother. "Stop belittling everything she does and cares about. And for God's sake act nice at the game tomorrow."

"It doesn't matter what we do," Jason pointed out. "You know anybody nicer than Mom? And they want to rip her to shreds."

"Kid has a point." Henry said, and they all turned, surprised to find their father standing behind the couch.

"You spying on us?" Alison asked as he crossed the room and sat on the coffee table facing him.

"I was just coming down here to point out how late it was." He said. "I didn't know there was a closed session."

"Bender was giving him crap about the game." Stevie told her father "And we were just talking about tomorrow."

He studied them for a long silent minute before responding. "Look, we are celebrating Jason's birthday. That's it. No calculated plans to behave a certain way. No strings. Just us - as we are."

"Da -ad." Alison protested. "It's not like that. We were just trying to . . ."

"You are trying to protect your mother." He said, cutting her off. "And that's not your job. What's more, you are trying to protect her political image and there's nothing she cares about less - except maybe her image as a chef." They laughed at this.

"We aren't babies." Jason pointed out. "And this press thing has been with us awhile now."

"I get that. I do. But she doesn't care about any of that. Neither do I. The things that matter most to her are looking at me right now." He rose. "So, we are going to the game and Ali and Jason are probably gonna snipe at each other, and Stevie's gonna stare at her phone all night. Your Mom will get way, way too involved in the game and a ref will probably have to give her a warning. It's a regular McCord Family Outing."

"Complete with armed guards and asshole photographers." Jason added.

"Yep." Henry agreed. "They'll snap a picture of your Mom frowning at the ref and me rolling my eyes at the two of you, and write a story about how we are headed to divorce. I don't give a goddamn. They can say whatever they want!" He pointed a finger at Jason. "You asking her to go to the game with you after you cancelled on all your friends made her smile, and you," he turned to Alison. "Planting a chestnut tree in our backyard gave her back some hope." He paused, drawing in a long breath. "It's enough to make a grown man cry out of gratefulness and pride."

"Good thing you are a Marine." Stevie said softly. "Everyone knows they're a grade or two above mortal men."

"Ooh rah!" He said nodding his head. "But it's late. Get to bed, you two."

He hugged and kissed them both, and without protest they went upstairs.

"Put your phones on the hall table. I'll put them on the charger later. Your mom's sleeping."

He flopped down on the couch beside Stevie, rubbing his face with his hands.

"You should go to bed." She told him.

"I will." He turned facing her. "Aren't your feelings hurt that I didn't say a word about you?" He grinned at her as she blushed.

"No, I . . . Dad! Knock it off."

"Stephanie Elizabeth McCord, if you hadn't been here . . .if you had stayed at school. We wouldn't have . . . You keep things together. You keep things together nearly as good as your mother. And I'm so grateful that you've been here for them; that you've been here for us. And I know it'll tick you off when I tell you that you are just like your Mom, but you gotta keep in mind that I think your mother is the best human I have ever known and that I adore her to no end, so when I say you are so much like her - it's a compliment sweetheart." He kissed her cheek. "You should get some sleep, too, hon."

"Okay." She said softly, rising to leave, but she paused. "Dad, the press tomorrow. . ."

"Is going to be horrible. They are going to say she's heartless for going to a basketball game less than twenty-four hours after they executed a fourteen year old child. It's going to be a very bad news cycle."

"I could get the flu? I could crash my car?"

"And ruin Jason's birthday?" He shook his head. "No, sweet, she can take it."

"I'm not sure _you_ can, though."

"No choice. Night, Stevie."

"Night, Dad. And for the record, I might protest and complain, but honestly Dad, you and Mom are the two best humans on the planet, and trying to measure up is going to take me the rest of all my days."

***MS***

 _Georgetown_ , _McCord_ _Front_ _Foyer_ , _Monday_ _7_ : _12_ _a_. _m_.

"You forgot your coffee." Henry said handing his wife a mug.

"Thank you!" She accepted the mug. "Completely necessary today!"

"Everyday, near as I can tell."

"I've got my last meeting booked at one, so I will be out of there by three at the latest. You guys just be ready."

"What did Frank say?" Henry asked.

"Oh, he is greatly displeased. He's probably gonna call you later and try to get you to get me to change my mind. Too many people. Not enough time. Plus, he's a Laker fan so . . ."

"That's gonna be fun." Henry told her. "I'm picking the kids up at lunch so we will just wait on you."

"Lunch?" She shook her head. "Jason's taking this birthday for all its worth."

"No kidding." He smiled at her. "I love you, Babe." He said pulling her in for a kiss. "Keep your head down, and your chin up."

"Roger that." She turned gathering her bags. "See you this afternoon."

"Bye, Babe."

He didn't watch her go, but instead turned back to the kitchen where the children were still gathered around breakfast.

"Come on. Let's get moving. We're leaving in fifteen whether you are ready or not."

"It seems a waste to rush around just for a half day." Jason pointed out.

"It does." Henry agreed.

"Right! Fight traffic, deal with that school parking lot! And then just have to turn around and do it again." Jason said hopefully.

"Fortunately, I am man capable of great sacrifice."

"Dad!" Jason groaned while his sister laughed.

Henry put a firm hand on Jason's shoulder. "I love you son." He said in mock seriousness. "And I'll battle any obstacle standing in the way of your education. I care that much."

Jason pushed his father's hand away. "And I am forever grateful." He said rolling his eyes. He pushed back from the table, "I'll get my backpack."

"See, that gratitude is what I live for - it makes the risk worth it."

"You are a real superhero, Dad." Alison said rising and setting her bowl in the sink.

"Damn straight." He said as she took the stairs two at time, dashing to get her backpack as he stood at the counter pour himself just one more cup of coffee.

***MS***

 _State Department, Monday 8:15 a.m._

"Good morning, Ma'am." Daisy greeted her boss.

"Good morning, Daisy." She said handing her coat and bags to Blake who had met her at the elevator, no doubting attempting to prevent Daisy from greeting her.

"Thank you, Blake." She smiled at him.

"Good morning, Ma'am. You have about 45 minutes. There's a vanilla latte on your desk." He nodded at her.

"Thank you, Blake. I hope you rested this weekend."

"Yes, ma'am. It was difficult to sleep knowing . . . well. We did the best we could."

"And then some."

They'd reached her office then, and she glanced up at Daisy. "Come on in, Daisy."

She sat behind her desk, smiling at the cup on her desk. She took a sip. And then looked up at Daisy.

"I suppose the press is already plastering my failure across the world."

"Ma'am, we made a very visible attempt at stopping Anoosh's death. It is going to follow us for a few cycles."

"Anoosh's murder." Elizabeth corrected and Daisy nodded her head slowly in agreement. "But that isn't why you are here. You want to tell me that going to the game this evening is a really bad idea."

"Ma'am, I . . ." She paused clearly uncomfortable. "It will add fuel to the fire. People will say, it looks like you don't care - that all your protesting was for show."

"It's a good thing we know differently then, isn't it?"

"Ma'am, I was here. I've never worked so hard for anything in my life, but it's my job to point out the optics of it. I can't recommend going to a very public basketball game less than twenty-fours after a little girl has been executed."

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, and looked up at Daisy. "When did you find out? Did Nadine call you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Early in the morning. She called me around 7:30."

"I got a phone call at 4:05 a.m. Just seconds after it had happened. My whole family was asleep. I kept thinking of my own sweet children, sleeping while across the globe Majara was suffering."

"Yes, ma'am." Daisy replied softly, clearly unsure what was happening. She expected an angry reaction from her boss.

"We had to tell the kids all of it - the horrible reality that I couldn't prevent. And later, Alison and Henry went out and bought a beautiful Chestnut sapling and we planted it in the backyard. And then Jason came to me, and told me that he wanted me to go to the basketball game with him; that he wanted it to be a family night. He's fourteen years old and has been planning this with his friends for the last month. They had bought matching jerseys, and planned out everything - even what they would do if Zendaya happened to be there. I mean, it might be hard for you to understand the incredible sacrifice of a fourteen year old boy choosing his _mother_ over his friends. It's huge Daisy."

"Yes, I understand that. I'm just pointing out how it will be perceived."

"I'm well aware of how it is going to look. They are going to come out with their knives sharpened. But he did it to comfort me. He did it because he wanted so badly for me not to be sad."

"Yes. Ma'am. Well, I start preparing some sort of response. I'm pretty sure, I can predict what they'll say. It's just going to be an uncomfortable few news cycles."

"You don't need to draft a reply. I'm not responding to questions about my son's birthday celebration. My children are off-limits. You know that. It's no one's business." She said heatedly.

"Ma'am, I understand that, but if we say nothing then the story won't die down. It will be adding fuel to the fire."

"I don't care. I can't take the heat. This office has been through worse. And my family has sacrificed enough." She rose, and nodded at Daisy. "Look, I understand your concerns, and appreciate your approach, but I'm not going to be persuaded. We are just going to have to deal with it."

She was surprised when Daisy, uncharacteristically, simply nodded her head and said, "Yes, ma'am. I'll see you at the staff meeting, later this morning."

"Thank you, Daisy."

"Thank you, Madam Secretary."

Elizabeth watched Daisy leave the office, surprised and relieved that it hadn't turned into a battle. Daisy was single-minded when it came to protecting the office and maintaining a positive image. She remembered with pain her first days in office, her poor new staff reeling from the death of their boss and somehow trying to understand their new boss - the most apolitical person in Washington. Maybe over time, Daisy was coming to accept her "shortcomings". She turned back to her desk, smiling again at the latte still steaming in the center of her desk - at least Blake understood her, and what she was trying to achieve. She just hoped that all of her staff could survive the negative press storm that was surely headed their way.


	8. Chapter 8

_Public House, Washington D.C., Tuesday, 12:17 p.m._

"The Secretary of State was seen celebrating with her family just hours after the death of Pakistani teenager, Anoosh Jinnah. Secretary McCord made a tremendous show of attempting to persuade the government of Pakistan to put a stop to the execution of the young girl whose blog and letters to friends have captivated the nation. It appears that the desperate attempts to save the teen were merely skin deep."

Henry McCord glanced in the direction of the tvs that hung over the bar, as he waited for a table. He knew going out to lunch was going to be a bad idea. He'd already been terribly rattled by the late night and early morning news reports regarding Jason's birthday celebration. The image of Elizabeth standing and cheering for a 3 point shot was plastered pretty much everywhere. It filled him with rage.

"I can't believe that she could attend such a public event just hours after the death of that little girl." The blond newscaster said to the anchor beside her. "It certainly shows a lack of thoughtfulness on the part of the State Department."

"Doesn't she have a public relations staff?" The anchor asked. "Someone should have pointed out to her that showing up at Madison Square Garden would be a pretty bad idea."

He could feel his blood pressure rising. It was the Micro Loan thing all over again. He was surrounded by voices who didn't know his wife, and didn't really care about Anoosh and Majara Jinnah, either, for that matter. Listening to her publicly derided and mocked filled him with an anger he was powerless to express. He couldn't even share it with her; it would only lead to increasing her own frustration and needless guilt.

"Table's ready." His friend Ben's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Henry?" Ben glanced up at the tv. "C'mon, man. Let's eat."

He didn't feel like eating, or talking which made meeting up with Ben for lunch a really bad idea. They had taught together at Georgetown, and since changing jobs he'd missed sitting around the office talking with Ben who was also a retired Marine. Ben had texted him just this morning, asking him to meet up for lunch.

"So, how you holding up?" Ben asked, as he opened the menu. "I mean, listening to that crap has got to suck."

"We knew it would happen." Henry shrugged. "It will blow over. We just got to wait it out."

"I don't know man, I'd wanna punch someone's lights out."

"I didn't say I didn't." Henry offered. "There's nothing we can do. She answers them and she gets accused of being defensive. She says nothing, and they say she's callous. They don't care about what happened. They don't care about her, and they are never gonna. They just want a good story."

"No way to win." Ben said.

"Sure there is," Henry said with a wry grin. "Take your kid out for his birthday. That's the win. The assholes can say whatever they want. Jason was really happy and for a little space of time so was Elizabeth. I don't care about anything else."

"I'm going to the shooting range after my last class." Ben told him. "Want to shoot up some cardboard targets in place of the assholes?"

"Hell, yeah."

***MS***

"So your family trip is all over the news, loser." Bender said, slouched beside Jason's locker.

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me, jerk." Jason slammed his locker shut.

"I'm just saying, no one ever wants to print any stories about me. You should've stuck to the original plan."

"Which one? The one where you let your girlfriend boss you around, or the one where you had the balls to tell her that you wanted to hang out with your friends?" Jason studied Bender thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well, we broke up." Bender said staring at the ground.

"Really?" Jason asked, surprised.

"I mean the whole thing was a pain in the ass. And I mean, I get that you were trying to do something nice. The fact that she was such a prima donna about it - about everything. I don't know. A girl like that is just trouble."

"She's pretty hot, though." Jason offered.

"Not when she's pissed. And she's always pissed about something. Anyway, I'm sorry that I was a jerk. Although, I still say, if it had just been us, there wouldn't be all this mess."

"Yeah, no one wants to talk about a pack of eighth graders." Jason laughed.

"Watch it. Every time you laugh and smile a girl in Pakistan is killed." Bender said.

"God, you are never allowed at my house! One comment like that and my sisters would rip you to pieces!" Jason said. "Do you study up on being a jackass?"

"No." Bender said as they walked down the hall toward class. "I'm completely self-taught."

***MS***

 _State_ _Department_ , _Tuesday_ _2_ : _20_ _p_. _m_.

"I know we already talked about this," Matt began gently. "And I was at the staff meeting when Daisy attempted to bring it up again, but I just think if we could make some sort of statement, it might alleviate some of the pressure." He stood a good foot back from Secretary McCord's desk, clearly anxious.

"Matt, I'm not discussing it. I told you my decision. There is nothing to be said. You, yourself agreed! Look, if we respond, it is like giving credence to the story. And the only thing it will do is provide them with clips of me looking defensive. There's no upside!"

"But in just the last few hours, the attacks have become more . . ." Matt began.

"You are supposed to be working on my speech for the summit, not watching the press scream about what a heartless bitch I am." She said with heat. "I appreciate everyone in the office rushing to defend my good name, but there's no space for that. I'm not made of glass. They can say what they want. It doesn't matter. It's just a story. They are going to run with it for a few cycles until some other tragedy catches their eye. We need to just keep doing our job. The work should speak for itself."

"Yes, ma'am, it should. But this is Washington. The work is irrelevant, as are good intentions. We all know if those girls had been spared you'd be on the cover of Time right now."

"Anoosh is dead. There was nothing we could do to change it. Not even war would've saved her. They would've killed her just to prove a point. Who knows? Maybe all the attention we brought to it, sped things up. But we can't look backwards. We can't undo the past, and we can't put the future on hold either. There is work to be done, and we need to do it. I get that you and Daisy have a focus on the way this office is viewed by the world outside this building, but honestly, it's at the bottom of my list. We've only got so many days, here. And I want to do something with them. I want our time here to matter. And if we can't save innocent girls, at least we can influence policy and build new friendships with other nations."

Matt took a half-step closer to the desk. "Yes, Madam Secretary." He nodded his head turning to go, but paused, "We didn't speed anything up, ma'am. You were right. There was nothing that could've been done. It was noble to try."

"The press never covers nobility, Matt." She said wryly.

"No, ma'am. I'll have a draft of that speech by the end of the day." He told her and left.

She sat back in her chair, tossing down the pen in her hand. She tried to shake herself out of her frustrated mood. She pushed herself up from her desk and turned to look out the window; another gray and drizzly day. Glancing at the clock she recognized Henry was teaching a lecture.

She hated this part of the job; truly hated it. She wasn't a politician; would never be one. She was always focused on outcome - what could she do to make things happen; to effect real change. She didn't have time to worry about things looked or if everybody had good feelies about her decisions. She hated that all of it fell back on Henry and the kids. Jason had every right to enjoy turning fourteen without having to consider the press or what his mother's PR Team would say. She was torn between her desire to make the world better for her children, and her desire to make her children's world better.

"Ma'am?" She turned at the sound of Blake's voice. "I was going to run over to the coffee cart, and wondered if you wanted anything. They've got some really nice herbal teas."

"Did I already have two cups today? I can't remember."

"Three."

"Damn! Well, I'm done for the day then."

"You could switch to vodka. You are meeting with the Russian ambassador later so I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Blake offered with a grin.

"The Russian ambassador has three vodkas before breakfast." Russell Jackson said startling them both. "He'd take it as an insult if you didn't have at least one."

"Russell, once just once, I'd love to know when you are coming by ahead of time." Elizabeth said, her hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault your assistant's desk is unoccupied!" He gestured toward Blake. "Beside, what fun would there be in knowing when I am going to appear?"

"Well, sir," Blake said quietly. "If we knew you were on your way we could put out the good snacks."

Russell frowned. "Who authorized a snack budget?"

"I pay out if my own pocket, sir." Blake answered. "It's a tax write off. Will you need anything else Ma'am?" He asked shifting his attention toward Elizabeth.

"No, thank you, Blake."

Russell waited until Blake had left the office and then moved to sit in a chair across from Elizabeth's desk. She moved and sat down across from him.

"What brings you to my office, Russell?" She asked.

"No snarky comment?" He asked with raised eyebrows. "The jackasses are getting to you?"

"I've got a meeting in a little bit, and I figured I'd better speed this along."

Russell considered her a moment, and then said, "Well, we are dug in a little deep with Turkmenistan, and we were hoping you could go over some of the emails. We've received some messages that are perplexing. I think someone made a misstep along the way. I want someone with some expertise to see if they can't untangle things before it gets blown out of proportion."

"Sure." She said. "That's no trouble. But you could have sent a messenger or someone from your staff."

"Well, I thought I'd stretch my legs, and I so enjoy rattling Blake."

She considered him thoughtfully. "You know, sometimes it seems like it might be possible that you are an actual human being, Russell."

"Oh, I hope not." He rose. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem." She said.

"Alright then." He nodded at her. "And, oh, there's one more thing. The president may have issued a statement regarding all this nonsense, so uh, you might want to be prepared for that."

"What?" She stood, shocked. "I was clear that I wasn't going to respond."

"You didn't. POTUS did."

"What did he say?" She asked as he turned and walked out of her office.

"Russell?" She called after him, but he only increased his pace.

***MS***

 _Georgetown, McCord Residence, Tuesday, 6:34 p.m._

Henry McCord ran up the steps to the house. He was much later than he intended to be. He liked to be home when the kids got home in the afternoon. Empty houses and teenagers, even well-behaved ones like Alison and Jason, were a bad combination. He'd lost track of time at the shooting range, finding way too much satisfaction in obliterating every target he faced.

He could hear their voices even as he stepped into the foyer, and he felt all his muscles relax. Elizabeth had made it home at a reasonable hour for once! They were all in the kitchen, and he felt a smile spread across his face as he stepped into the bright kitchen.

"Dad'll take my side!" Jason said, immediately crossing the room and latching onto Henry's arm.

"I wil?" He glanced across the room at Elizabeth, who stood at the sink washing vegetables. "Hey!" He said nodding at her.

"Good evening!" She responded with a smile and wink.

"There's no way, Dad's taking your side!" Alison said from where she sat at the table.

"What are we arguing about?" He asked, as he passed Stevie who stood at the kitchen island, slicing a tomato.

"Ignore them." She said lifting her face as he paused to kiss her cheek. "They are infants!"

"We are not!" Jason protested. "We are just . . ."

But he never did learn what the argument was about because as he crossed to the sink to wrap Elizabeth in a hug from behind, she leapt out and away from him, splattering the kitchen with carrots and water.

"What . . . Where . . ." She had moved back and away from him. Her face pale and eyes wide. "You . . . What's that smell?"

"Shit!" It wasn't until much later that he realized he'd said the word out loud. "Babe, I'm sorry I was at the shooting range!" He was an idiot! He hadn't thought about the fact that he would come home covered in the acrid scent of gunpowder. "I'm so sorry. It's okay, babe. I'll . . ."

He held his hands stretched out to her but she only hunched further back away from him. And he felt everything - all his joy and optimism fade away. Fighting every urge to do otherwise, he moved away from her. "Stevie?" He turned toward their oldest. All three children stood frozen and wide-eyed.

"Mom?" Jason asked as Ali turned to him, "Dad? What's . . ."

But he interrupted her. "Stevie, help Mom. She should sit down. Ali get her a glass of water, and tell her about your day. She's okay, I just . . . I startled her. She just needs a minute. Talk to her."

He turned toward Jason. "Come with me." He was moving back toward the steps and began to make his way upstairs. "Hon? I'll go take a shower. I'll be right back. Just sit down a minute, okay? Elizabeth. It's okay. I was just at the shooting range. I'm sorry. You are home. Everything is okay." He turned and ran up the stairs quickly with Jason close behind him.

"Dad what happened? Why is Mom so . . ."

"I went to the shooting range." He explained. "I reek of gunpowder. I'm so stupid!" He turned to Jason. "It reminded her, Jas. Smell, is really strong memory trigger, and I was so stupid! I didn't even think!" He shook his head. "I'm going to take a shower and I'll throw my clothes in the hallway. Grab 'em and put them in the washing machine. Don't just throw them in the hamper, Jas. We gotta get rid of the smell!"

"Okay." Jason said weakly. "I got it, Dad. What else should I do?"

"Wait here." Henry said. "Wash the clothes and put my shoes out back. Or maybe the front porch. And use the front stairs so Mom doesn't have to . . ."

"I got it." Jason interrupted. "Hurry up Dad. Mom will want you with her."

Standing under the hot shower, he felt as if nothing could wash it all away. The smell of spent shell casings and smoke clung to him weighing him down, clinging to him. He was weighed down with shame and with guilt.

***MS***

 _McCord Kitchen, Tuesday, 7:03 p.m._

"I'm fine." Elizabeth McCord told her oldest. "It's okay." She rose from where she sat on the couch. "It just . . . Come on, Noodle, we were gonna burn dinner together again.

"Mom," Stevie said, following her into the kitchen. "I can cook. Maybe you should . . ."

Elizabeth reached out, pulling Stevie into a hug. "Honey, I am fine. It was just the smell of gunpowder. It sort of, I don't know, confused me for a minute. But I'm better now. And I want to cook dinner for my family for once. I can't even think of the last time I was home in time to eat dinner!"

"Okay." Stevie said hugging her mother before stepping away. "But can you please, please, look at the recipe. Just this once?"

By the time, Henry returned to the kitchen, they were putting plates on the table. He tried to catch his wife's eye, but avoiding meeting his gaze, she said, "How about that chardonnay?"

"Sure." He said, turning away from the kitchen.

"Henry," She began and he paused, meeting her eyes. "Let's just have dinner, okay?"

He nodded his head, swallowing down tears. "Sure, Babe. I'll get the wine."

It was a fairly normal McCord family dinner. The kids talked entirely too much, and everyone more or less pushed the food around their plates. It wasn't terrible food, mostly bland and tasteless, which Elizabeth generally considered a win. She'd never had the patience for cooking. She would get distracted in the middle of preparing a meal, and wander away from the stove, to research an idea, or do a quick load of laundry, and the next she knew the kitchen was filled with smoke.

She recognized that things were still unsettled, when Jason and Ali offered to do the dishes.

"We've got it." Jason said taking a plate out of her hand. "Don't worry."

Her eyes grew wide, but the she thought better of drawing attention to his kindness. He probably felt self-conscious enough.

"I'm gonna make coffee. You want some, Mom?" Stevie asked.

"I better not." Elizabeth told her.

"It's decaf." Stevie offered.

"Okay, but a small cup."

Henry was distracted taking the trash out back, which was probably for the best. She knew he felt miserable about the whole thing, but she wasn't sure she could manage any intense conversations today. She was exhausted, frustrated, and ready for the focus on her trip to Madison Square Garden to fade to something else.

She stood in the center of the family room as her family bustled around. The light was fading outside. It was still cold, but the bitter winter seemed to be finally, finally coming to an end. It took her a minute to realize that Henry had gone out with the trash, but still hadn't come back in. Sighing, she turned and stepped outside into the chilly night.

"Henry?"

She found him in the back, watering the chestnut tree, an old green watering can in his hand.

"Yesterday's rain too dry?" She asked him with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know." He said setting the watering can down. "I needed to do something."

"The bathroom door downstairs still squeaks." She offered with a raised eyebrow and wry grin. "And the basement is a disaster."

"Elizabeth . . ." He shook his head. "C'mon, I . . ."

"It was just an . . ." She struggled for the right word to describe it. "It was an accident, Henry. I know you didn't mean to startle me like that! Let's not make a big deal out of it. It just startled me. I'm fine."

"I can't tell you how . . . I am so sorry." He told her, taking a step closer to her.

"It wasn't your fault, and you didn't do anything wrong. You've gone to the shooting range thousands of times since we got married. You are a Marine for God's sake! It's not your fault, that I'm all messed up over stupid things! Seriously, there's no reason for a big apology, okay?"

"You aren't messed up, Babe. It's normal."

"Henry, please. Things have been so . . ." She shook her head. "I'm fine. It's over. Let's drop it. I really am okay."

"You're okay?" He asked her. "You are sure?"

"I'm sure. Henry, come on. This is you and me." She said, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. "Babe, I know you'd never hurt me. It's just one of those stupid things. It's no different than that time you surprised me by walking in the house a week early and I dropped that vase and nearly had a heart attack. Remember?"

"I forgot about that." He smiled at her. "You've got a really good scream."

"I _thought_ you were still in Afghanistan!" She told him. "I was expecting to see you in a week! You are lucky I didn't slug you!"

"As I remember it, you did." He laughed. "Still, I"m sorry. I'm sorry for startling you both times, Babe."

"I know you are, but I'm alright."

He wrapped his arms around her. "Okay." He told her softly, kissing her forehead, and pulling her in tight against his chest. "I'm just . . . I know you understand it was an accident. I just wish so badly I'd thought about it, you know. If I thought about it for even a second, I would've recognized that I should've taken a shower at the gym."

"Well," She said looking up at him. "You are human. You can't think of everything, every second of every day."

"'Our virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When they separate man is no more.'" Henry quoted thoughtfully.

"Aquinas?" She asked him.

"Tesla." He told her. "I am sorry though, sweetheart. I know today has been pretty crappy, and I wanted this evening to be relaxing."

"Well, on the upside, we freaked the kids out enough that they did the dishes voluntarily." She pointed out.

"There's that." He said. "How were things at work?"

"Oh, God." She said, stepping back from him. "It was about as crappy as you can imagine. My staff is really pushing to make some kind of statement. There's no upside to it. It won't make anything better. We just have to wait it out. I don't know why they can't comprehend the logic of that."

"Because listening to people say crap about someone you care about is pretty damn frustrating." He told her. "They want to defend you, babe."

"Well, maybe you should invite them to the shooting range." She looked up at him. "That why you went?"

"Yeah." He admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I get it, hon. We talked about it, and I survived all the bullshit with the subpoena, and Micro Loans, but I gotta confess, I'm at my limit, Babe. Listening to people say garbage about you, pisses me off. And I know _you_ can take it. The problem is, I'm not near as tough as you."

She laughed at this, and reached out to put an arm around her, noticing only then that she'd come outside without even a sweater.

"Come on, you must be freezing." He said pulling toward the house. "The kids are probably worried."

"I think tonight I'm going to drown my sorrows in ice cream." She told him.

"A more responsible choice than whiskey." He pointed out.

They had just reached the first step, when the back door opened and Alison stepped out with wide eyes.

"Mom! Dad!" She said. "You've got to come inside!"

"What's wrong?" Henry was already two steps ahead of her, and Alison stepped back, as he went inside.

"Look!" Alison said, her long arm pointing at the tv. Elizabeth turned, coming inside just behind them. President Dalton stood in the briefing room at the podium.

"We recorded it." Jason told them. "You gotta watch this."

Henry glanced at his wife, and reaching out grabbed her hand, pulling her beside him, as Stevie, pressed play.


	9. Chapter 9

_Georgetown, McCord Family Room, Tuesday, 8:42p.m._

Henry McCord kept his fingers circled tightly around his wife's hand as Stevie pushed play.

"It was at the end of some press conference about a general or something." Jason said.

"General Aberdeen." Elizabeth said "He retired after . . ." But the screen in front of her came to life.

". . .his service and hope that he enjoys some well-earned rest." President Dalton was saying. Then they heard his press secretary's voice call out, "One more question."

President Dalton stretched out an arm pointing, "Peter."

"Does the White House have any comments regarding Secretary of State McCord's callous disregard of the loss of Pakistani youth Anoosh Jinnah?"

"You mean the execution of Anoosh Jinnah? The execution that Secretary McCord spent night and day trying to prevent? Is that what you are talking about?" President Dalton asked, his voice tense with anger.

He paused, his hands gripping the podium. "Look, this story is ridiculous and everyone of you knows it! You've got reporters camped outside the state department! So you were here! You watched it all know she worked tirelessly to stop it! What's more, you did your research. Jason McCord turned fourteen six weeks ago which is when those tickets were purchased. This trip had planned months ago!"

"So, you believe it was appropriate behavior immediately following the execution of a fourteen year old girl?" A reporter called out.

"The execution of Anoosh Jinnah is a tragedy. The fact that the practice of forcing young girls to marry still exists is a tragedy. The United States does not support such policies. Secretary McCord made that abundantly clear during the last week. She tried desperately to negotiate for Anoosh and her sister, Majara. She worked tirelessly to save those girls making sure that the whole world was aware of the tragedy. _She's_ the reason you have reported the story! And now all you want to talk about is that she spent the evening celebrating her son's birthday! How about this? Why don't you report on the plight of Majara who is still alive? Or maybe you could write about the sixty-five million girls worldwide who are denied access to education? It seems to me, a mother spending time with her family, should be pretty low on the priority list for your news feed."

Stevie pushed the clicker and the screen froze on the image of the President of United States turning and walking away from the podium.

"Play it again!" Jason said triumphantly.

"Mom, did you know he was going to do that?" Stevie asked.

"No, uh. . . I didn't think . . ." Clearly flustered, she struggled for words. "I . . . we weren't . . ." She shook her head, and looked around the room, her eyes resting on each of her children before settling on her husband, "Henry?"

"Play it again." Henry said softly, wrapping an arm around his wife and kissing her cheek as nodding her head, Stevie rolled the recording back to the start. "Listen to that, Babe." He whispered. "Listen."

***MS***

 _Georgetown, McCord Master Suite, 12:17 a.m._

Henry McCord curled his body around his wife who had turned on her side. She sighed contentedly and he nipped her ear playfully.

"Henry," She laughed. "Go to sleep!"

"You sure? We could go for the hat trick!" He teased her.

"We aren't twenty-two anymore."

"You make me feel twenty-two." He kissed her cheek. "You want to talk about it now?"

"I don't know what to say." She told him. "It was an unbelievable kindness."

"And Washington is bereft of kindness." He added.

She turned in his arms to face him. "Henry, no one uses words like "bereft" at midnight while lying in bed naked."

He laughed at this, his hand squeezing her hip. "I do." He sighed. "You know how I feel about Conrad, Babe. I've always been so conflicted. I know you respect him and look up to him. I understand that he recruited and trained you. I get that connection, but it's hard to accept some of the choices he's made."

"If things had gone differently at the hearing, do you really think he would've fired me? Do you think he would've distanced himself from me?" She asked.

"Yeah, I do." He told her truthfully. "Baby, I am sorry but, he would've sold you out after you nearly got killed trying to save him."

"It wasn't to save his career, Henry. It was bigger than that."

"I know." He ran a hand back and forth over her back. "But this . . . It's unexpected. I don't know, sweetheart. Sometimes I get the tiniest glimmer of hope."

She laughed. "I'm making you a believer?"

"I am your most committed follower, Babe. But you've got me starting to think the light is spreading."

She rose up on her elbow, staring down at him with wide blue eyes. "Are you drunk?" She asked, her face bright with laughter.

"Maybe, but not on alcohol." He told her, reaching a hand out to cup the side of her face. "Look at you! You are the United States Secretary of State, and you haven't changed a bit. You are still fiery, strong, sweet, determined and so good."

She blushed, and her eyes filled with tears. "Henry," she said softly. "I'm not . . . I couldn't save those girls."

"No. You can't save everyone and you can't fix everything - hard as you try and right as you might be." He leaned forward kissing her. "But the things you are doing, the things you are trying to do - they are beautiful. You said you took the job because you wanted effect real change? You are doing that, Elizabeth! Conrad Dalton standing up for you is proof of it! Whatever humanity and goodness that exists in that town, baby, it stems from you." He pulled her back down into his arms and she settled against his chest.

"Hope is dangerous, Henry. Be careful." She said gently.

"Salvatore says, 'It is better, I think, to grab at the stars than to sit flustered because you know you cannot reach them.'" He offered, squeezing her tightly to him.

"Another one," She whispered, greedily.

"'Hope is the dream of a waking man.'" He told her.

"Aristotle. I know that one." She nudged him gently. "More."

"'The clouds of my grief dissolved and I drank in the light.'" He told her. "Boethius. And Dr. King said, 'We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.'"

They lay together in silence, and he felt himself drifting to sleep, content that she was safe, tucked in his arms, comforted.

"You are the most comforting person on the earth," She told him softly. "This is so much tougher than we thought it would be."

"It is." He agreed. "Do you regret it?"

She paused, thoughtfully, considering the question carefully; honestly. "Some days I do. After Iran, I guess - or maybe in the middle when I thought I wasn't coming back." She felt his body tense at her words. "And when it hurts the kids - when it brings you grief, but with everything in the balance, I'm not." She rose up to look down into his face. "Are you?"

He smiled, and kissed her before answering. "Noodle asked me the same thing."

"What did you say?"

"The truth. Some days, like you said. Seeing you so deeply hurt, is . . . I don't really have words for how much it pains me. And see your babies so worried and upset over things - that's tough too. But you've changed things. You've changed the country, and kept the world safe." He chuckled softly. "It's completely crazy, but it is true. I don't know. We've had tough days in our life." He reached out capturing her fingers with his, and pulling her back down. "But this," He squeezed her fingers tightly. "This is strong, and it is all that matters to me, really."

"Yes." She agreed. "It makes the rest endurable."

"'Light spreads out from her fingers, bringing illumination to everyone around her. At times the brightness of truth is blinding, but at all times it is pure and true and entirely right. And it reshapes the world around her.'" His voice was soft and he ran his hand through her hair as he spoke.

"Who said that?" She asked.

He laughed softly again. "I just did. It's stanza number four hundred seventy-eight of a poem I'm working on."

She said nothing in response, and he could feel her relax completely against him. He felt a smile spread over his features, and he nearly laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it. There were, no doubt, still reports just outside the safe walls of their house, waiting for their chance to capture a shot to support the story that Elizabeth McCord was an evil, heartless, politician. Long, difficult days apart loomed on the horizon, and knowing Conrad, he would turn and spin again, leaving her confused and wounded, while he silently raged at the injustice. Yet, now, in this moment, in this very second, he felt complete joy and utter peace. They were together safe within the center of the storm that still raged all around him. He drifted to sleep listening to her soft, even breathing, grateful beyond words, and sure that with the rising sun, the light of hope and truth would continue to spread.

***MS***

 _Author's Note:_

 _This might be the end. I was kind of playing with one last chapter, but I dunno. That felt like a pretty nice ending. I cannot wait! Season 2 begins! I hope you enjoyed this story. I always enjoy writing about Elizabeth and Henry, and all of Team McCord. They are such lovely characters. I apologize for the cursing in this one, but sometimes I get Tim and Henry mixed up and, Tim is not afraid of language ;) Happy Season 2 Everyone!_


	10. Epilogue

_Washington, D.C., State Department, Six Months Following the Stoning of Anoosh Jinnah_

"Where is it?" Elizabeth McCord asked breathlessly as she stepped out of the conference room.

"I gave it to Blake." Nadine said, falling in step, matching her bosses rapid pace.

"It's legitimate?"

"Everything checks out." Nadine said. "No one's read it but it's been x-rayed and scanned."

"Laura Tennier didn't read it? I thought it was sent to her?"

They reached her outer office by then and Blake rose, a small envelope in his hand. "Laura was sent her own letter. She said this was inside it but she said she thought it was private and so didn't open it."

"I want to speak with her." Elizabeth said, taking the envelope from his hand.

"Yes, ma'am. I already spoke with her parents. I told them to expect your call." He followed her into her office. "Just let me know when you want me to put the call through." He and Nadine left and she sat alone in her office studying the letter in her hand.

It was just a few seconds later that she burst out of her office, surprising Blake and Nadine who still lingered nearby.

"No." She told them. "This isn't right. We all worked hard to save those girls. This may be addressed to _me_ , but whatever it contains it belongs to all of _us_." She turned to Nadine. "Can you gather everyone up?"

"Yes, Madam Secretary." Nadine nodded her head. "The Conference Room B?"

"No, my office is fine."

***MS***

It took Nadine Tolliver longer than she would have liked to gather the staff. Daisy was in the middle of press conference and so they all had to wait until she was finished. Fortunately, news of the letter had not been leaked to the press. Nadine was greatly relieved that Daisy didn't have to try and stall any questions. They finally gathered back in Elizabeth's McCord's office forty-five minutes after Blake had placed the letter in her hand. Nadine, Jay and Matt sat on the couch in her outer office, with Blake and Daisy settling into the chairs that were across from it. Blake rose, as Secretary McCord stepped out of her office. The letter, still opened in her fingers.

"Ma'am." He indicated the chair he'd just left.

"No, that's alright, Blake. I'll stand. Go ahead. You sit."

He nodded his head, and sat back down in the chair. She stood between Blake in his chair and Nadine, who sat at one end of the couch.

"We just received this today, Daisy." She said, filling in the press secretary. "No one has read it. It was sent to Laura Tennier, who also got a letter. We believe it was written by either Anoosh, or Majara Jinnah."

"But how . . ." Daisy's eyes grew wide with shock.

"We believe she had written maybe in the first days of her imprisonment. We aren't sure. Maybe two days before she was killed. It was passed along to a cousin who brought food and then has passed hands several times, until it arrived at Laura Tennier's home." Blake told them.

"It didn't seem right to open without all of us here. I know we all still feel the sting and pain of this. We've moved forward and moved on, but Anoosh is with us still."

"Go ahead, Ma'am." Nadine said gently. "Open it."

"Alright." She cleared her throat and with trembling fingers, opened the envelope.

"United States Secretary McCord, I am writing to during what will be some of my last days. I know and understand this, and I am not afraid. I have heard how you have been trying to do what you can to stop my death. But you must know that you will not be able. Before they took away everything; before they locked us up. Majara showed me your picture and told me of your work to help all children. It is why we asked our friend Laura to see if she could speak with you. But we did not do so to save ourselves. We are resigned to our deaths."

She paused looking up at her staff, circled around her. Matt had risen from his chair, to move closer to Daisy, and without saying a word, Jay moved over to the open chair so that Matt could settle beside Daisy, who already had tears gathering in her wide eyes. Recognizing that making eye contact with any of them, would result in her own tears, she ducked her head, returning to the letter.

"We did not ask Laura to speak with the United States to be saved. We knew we were past saving. Our father is firm in his convictions; firm enough to lift a rock and throw it toward his own daughter. But Majara and I are not alone. There are many girls like us in Pakistan, and in other parts of the world. We wish for more than we have been given. Majara is so clever. She learned to read when I did, though she was much younger, and has read every book we own. She loves science and understands it so completely. She would make such a good scientist. But instead she will die, surrounded by her family. But I will be with her. I write this in hopes it will reach your hands. I write this to say thank you for all you already doing. I write this to say that I am sorry, and you must not blame yourself when our death comes, as we know it will. But I write this mostly, to ask; not to beg you - that we not be forgotten or ignored. I write this pleading on behalf of girls everywhere just like Majara and I who want so much more. We share this earth, and we "have an obligation to leave a better world to our children'. I read that in one of your speeches and I pray now that you believe it. I pray it is true. I send you this, my last letter, written by my own hand as I wait to die, so that you will hear my voice long after I am dead, and in prayer that you will continue this cause. I send this to you with hope. Anoosh and Majara Jinnah."

She exhaled loudly, the only sounds in the room of soft tears. She turned to Blake.

"I'll take that chair now." Her voice, which had been almost steady through the reading of letter, was broken now.

Blake sprang up, tears in his own eyes, and taking her hand, guided her to the chair. He did not, however, let go of her hand when she sat. Instead, he leaned against the arm of the chair, his hand still holding hers. They were silent a long moment, lost in shared grief; in shared tears.

"Jay?" Nadine said after a long moment. "Can you get that bottle from my desk?"

"Yes, ma'am." He said softly rising and leaving the room quickly.

"We need glasses, Blake." Nadine said softly.

He nodded his head, and squeezing his boss's' hand lightly, he let go her fingers, and disappeared, returning the same time as Jay with a tray of glasses.

Nadine rose. "You pour, Jay." She said, clearing her throat.

"In Greek times," Matt said rising, pulling Daisy up with him. "They always lifted a glass to those who had fallen. They would lift their glasses to the heaven and remember all the great heroes who came before them, swearing an allegiance to honor them with their lives."

They gathered around the tray, and then turned to look back at Secretary McCord who still sat in the chair, her head down.

"Ma'am," Blake said, gently. He moved closer to her, a glass outstretched to her. She rose slowly, and though her face was streaked with tears, they could see the usual fire and determination in her eyes.

"I swear allegiance to Anoosh; to Majara and to their dream. I shall endeavor from this day forth to end the suffering to all girls - of all children worldwide. It is a promise I take with me unto the grave." She said lifting her class.

"My allegiance also." Blake said.

"And mine." Nadine said.

They all agreed lifting their glasses high above their heads, and the sound of clinking glass rang like a bell; a declaration.

They stood some minutes longer, until Blake gathered all the glasses on the tray. They turned to her, awaiting her instructions.

"Daisy, release the letter to the press, as soon as possible, and Blake, can you get Laura on the line." She said to them.

"Do you have any comment?" Daisy asked.

"Yes." She said. "Tell them I stand with Anoosh."

Daisy nodded her head, and they filed out of her office until only Nadine remained. She returned to her desk, the envelope still in her fingers. "Can you ask Daisy to make a copy of the letter for me?" She asked Nadine. "I want to show it to my daughters."

"Yes, Madam Secretary." Nadine nodded her head. She glanced at the phone on her desk. "Laura Tennier is on the line, Ma'am."

"Yes." Elizabeth said. She reached for the phone, but paused to meet Nadine's eyes. "Thank you, Nadine."

Nadine, hesitated, a lone tear, escaping and rolling down her face. "I'm not often wrong, Ma'am." She said and Elizabeth furrowed her brows confused. "I thought you were in over your head when you first took over. I thought the President a fool to choose you; that you were not a politician and that you couldn't possibly learn everything you needed to know. I thought we'd spend all our days teaching you."

"Nadine, don't . . ." She began, but her Chief of Staff uncharacteristically cut her off, interrupting.

"Ma'am, I will telling people for the rest of my days that I served with you. It will remain my highest honor and my greatest privilege." She nodded her head. "Thank _you_ , Madam Secretary." She turned and left the room closing the door behind her.

Elizabeth McCord, waited a long moment, gathering herself before lifting the phone to her ear.

"Laura?" She said, her voice even. "I am Elizabeth McCord, and I wanted to thank you personally for sending that letter to me. I cannot express how grateful I am. I cannot express how grateful we all are for what you did for Anoosh and Majara. And I am sorry things didn't turn out the way we wanted them to, but I wanted to tell you about some things that we are planning on doing for the future. I wanted you to know the things you set in motion."

***MS***

 _Author's Note: I just had to add a little, tiny bit more. I couldn't have Anoosh and Majara forgotten. Although, what I wanted was to write a story about Elizabeth failing because at this point she's going to have to - probably during this season. And although the story of Anoosh and Majara is a fictional account - we all know this is something happening all around our globe._

 _I would like to believe that there really is someone in our government who would hold a tender spot for girls like Anoosh, and Majara who deserve all the rights my own daughter has. I enjoy watching Madam Secretary because it is refreshing to see true civil servants, and I know there must be some out there - people like Jay, Nadine, Matt, Blake, and even sometimes-annoying Daisy - people determined to make this world a better place. I would like to think that there exists an Elizabeth McCord; a true leader with solid support at home endeavoring to cut through all the garbage and get to the heart of it all - making this world better._

 _Let it be true for all of us everywhere, someday soon._


End file.
